Spellbinder (Moonshadow #2)

Modred spoke up unexpectedly. “Remember, Izzy. I did try to warn you, but you wouldn’t listen. He has hurt other women in the castle. All you have to do is ask Myrrah and the chambermaids.”

Pressing both clenched fists to her forehead, Isabeau screamed wordlessly.

Modred went to her and clasped her by the shoulders. When she looked up at him, he said gently, “Hard as it is for you to accept, my love, Valentin’s crimes and death are the least interesting thing about all this.”

That was when Morgan knew they weren’t going to get away with it. Isabeau was overwrought, and when she got in that state she grew sloppy and overlooked details. But Modred never did. Modred was always thinking things through.

Wiping her face with both hands, Isabeau asked, “What are you talking about?”

“Ask him.” Modred nodded to Morgan. “Ask him why he showed up just in time to kill Valentin, after having been gone all these weeks. Ask him where he has been, and what he has been doing. Ask him to describe exactly how Warrick died, and why. Ask him to show you his wound, if that was really what kept him away for so long, and if he still has it, ask him why he hasn’t healed. And then order him to tell you the complete truth with no innuendoes, misdirection, ambiguity, or statements of supposition.”

Morgan couldn’t keep from glancing at Sidonie. Horror hollowed out her eyes. She opened her mouth. The gods only knew what she meant to say.

He forestalled her by saying in a harsh voice, “I killed Valentin. There is no ambiguity to that.”

“I hear you speak the truth, no question, and yet there is ambiguity laid out on the floor in front of us.” Modred knelt by the body and tilted his head back and forth. “His neck is broken,” he said matter-of-factly. “Oh, but look—his jugular has also been cut. How doubly unfortunate for him, and how unusually inefficient of you, Morgan. Your killings tend to be much more straightforward.”

Isabeau angled out her jaw as she turned in a circle, looking at each piece of the scene.

“What is going on here?” she hissed. Her eyes were sharper, more clearly focused. Modred had brought her back on point.

Striding over to Morgan, she tore open his shirt and yanked off his bandages. The site of the wound, with the dark thick scab turning to scar and the black lines radiating outward, made her pause.

Behind her, Sidonie’s eyes widened with horrified compassion. He had never let her see what lay underneath the bandages.

And all the while Modred took everything in with a sharp gaze that missed nothing. His attention snagged on Sidonie’s expression and lingered.

Every muscle in Morgan’s body tightened, straining with the need to kill Modred, to switch off that bright, unrelenting mind forever. His Power built while the geas held him locked in place. His body heated, and sweat trickled down his spine.

“Start asking him, Izzy,” Modred urged, rubbing the edge of his mouth as his gaze remained on Sidonie. “Let’s see what he has to say. Be sure to make him tell the complete truth. I feel certain the tale must be fascinating.”

“Do as he said,” Isabeau snapped at Morgan. “Tell me what you’ve done since I last ordered you away. Don’t lie. Don’t prevaricate, and don’t try to misdirect me. Tell me everything.”

Everything.

Everything would reveal how he had healed Sidonie when she had been held in prison, and how Sidonie had worked with him and Robin to break him free of the geas so they could escape.

If he told Isabeau everything, Isabeau would kill her. Morgan’s life held some value for Isabeau, but as much as she liked Sidonie’s music, Sidonie wasn’t indispensable.

Finally he came to the end of a very long and lonely road. There was no further turn to take, and no way to go back.

The tale that told everything came down to just one thing.

I fell in love, he thought, and smiled. It was a miracle, and despite everything he had been through, he felt blessed with having been given such a fortune.

As he remained silent, Isabeau’s face distorted with rage. Flying at him, she hit him over and over. “Tell me! Tell me what you’ve done!”

He grew hotter, his Power grinding against the geas, and blood thundered in his ears.

Gritting his teeth, he said, “No.”

“You have to!” she shouted, hitting and slapping his face, his chest. “You have to tell me!”

He barely felt the blows. The pressure built in his chest. It felt like a heart attack, radiating out his left arm, while the geas pounded in his brain. As it forced his mouth open, his Power rose to meet it, and he stopped the flood of words from flowing.

“No,” he gasped.

Dimly he was aware of Sidonie shouting. At some point Modred had grabbed her again, and she struggled against his hold. “Stop it—you’re killing him!”

He had fought before against the geas, many times, and lost. This time he couldn’t afford to lose. The geas tried to wrench the words out, and he clenched down harder. Desperately, as he reached for anything he could pull strength from, he connected to the earth magic.

Digging deep, he drew hard on it. Something shifted down below, and with a great, yawning noise the floor in the great hall cracked.

“You have to do what I say. I command you.” Isabeau’s face had purpled, and blood vessels burst in the corners of her eyes from the force of her scream. “Otherwise what has been the point of this whole bloody nightmare! I’ll make you tell me!”

He was blinded to almost everything from the forces tearing him apart, except for Isabeau.

With a wrenching cry, she dragged Azrael’s Athame from the scabbard and then fell to her knees, as if she had tried to lift an unimaginable weight. Hunching over, she dragged herself to her feet.

Tears spilled over. He couldn’t breathe. His chest was being crushed from within.

Still he managed to whisper, “No.”

His final act would be one of his own free will.

“Then what use are you anymore?” she cried.

Baring her teeth from the effort, Isabeau thrust the knife into his heart.

*

The black blade hit home.

There was no mistaking it for anything but a mortal blow. Morgan’s expression changed; it was obvious he knew it too. Isabeau froze, staring at what she’d done.

Sidonie heard herself scream as if from a long distance away. She felt like her heart was being cut out of her chest.

Then Morgan’s face sharped with such ferocity, he no longer looked human. Grasping Isabeau’s hands as she gripped the hilt, he bared his teeth and roared at her. Light shone out from the entry wound in his chest, and a blast of boiling heat blew out across the room. Struggling against his grip, Isabeau shrieked in agony.

Gradually the light and heat faded. As they dimmed, all expression faded from Morgan’s features, until he almost looked peaceful. He fell in a sprawl.

Still howling, Isabeau stumbled back, holding up her shaking hands. They were withered and blackened like claws.

Modred abandoned his grip on Sidonie and raced to the Queen. Scooping her into his arms, he ran from the hall.

Sid barely noticed. All her attention was on Morgan.