“Edlyn,” Rayne tried. “Seloue.” Neither of them was listening. Seloue glared and Edlyn angrily stalked to the door. Tierri followed her but Rayne hesitated.
“I'll leave for Shade tomorrow,” Seloue said, still sitting by the hearth, her eyes on the fire instead of her departing guests.
“You shouldn't let her scare you.”
“Shouldn't I? She's the next queen.” She turned, half her face still cast in shadow.
Rayne paused, then shook her head. “No, you're right. If you go to Shade, don't stop at Bricboro, and Torlan isn't safe either. It's better to go to one of the northern ports, Inurta or Otille.”
Seloue nodded her understanding.
Rayne started to shut the door but stopped and looked back. Seloue was bending to pick up the forgotten cups of cider. “It's cold there. Lots of snow, almost all year long.” She unclasped her necklace and tossed it at Seloue, who caught it. The chain was white gold, and the ruby dangling from the end would probably be more than enough to buy her what she needed.
“I'll pay you back somehow,” Seloue said, clutching the chain. The red ruby caught the firelight.
“Yes,” Rayne said, “when we see each other again.” With a final smile at her friend, she shut the door behind herself and chased her sister into the street.
? ? ?
“The nerve of that girl!” Edlyn was stomping down the residential street toward the market. The area was quieter now, most people ready to retire for the evening. Her sister was the exception, indignant rage making her careless and loud.
“She was just telling you—”
“I know what you wanted her to tell me!” Edlyn whirled on her, both of them stopping on the side of the street beneath a lamppost, the flickering flame casting them in yellow light. Rayne resisted the urge to step back into the darkness. “Well, your plan failed. You cannot make me believe that our father has done anything wrong by enslaving those that rebel against him. People like her deserve it.”
Rayne was appalled. “No one deserves that!”
Edlyn stomped her foot like a toddler throwing a tantrum and turned on her heel, walking away. Rayne watched her go, the words ringing in her head: Your plan failed. They all had. It was time to stop making plans and act. Her fingers found the hilt of her knife, forgotten in her pocket. She had been hoping that her sister would be able to change. That she would understand what the country needed and that it wasn't necessarily what her father wanted. There were a million excuses for slavery—money, obedience, punishment—but one giant argument against it, and Edlyn would never admit it. She had resigned herself to confinement, but that didn't give her the right to inflict the same fate on everyone else.
“I have to do it,” Rayne said to Tierri, who had stopped beside her. “But Danyll will blame us. He’ll know.”
“She escaped,” Tierri said. “We went after her, but it was too late. She was killed by angry protesters, rebels who had been waiting for her, just as your father suspected. There was nothing we could do.”
“He'll kill you.”
“He won't. I'm too valuable. I'm the last Malstrom wielder.”
Rayne thought of Wido, of how pleased he would be when he heard the news. And how angry he would be when he came to claim a throne to find Rayne already occupying it, with the Hail force at her back. Would he join her then? When he saw her power? And then she would free her people and turn them on Dusk, on her father. It was the first time she allowed herself to imagine the crown on her head, to imagine herself victorious.
She walked forward with purpose now, toward her sister who waited for her in the shadows. The rest of the world fell away. Orabel became a distant cacophony of light and sound. Even Tierri's footsteps behind her were just echoes from somewhere far away. She remembered this feeling from her training, the calm before a fight when nothing else mattered except the weapon in her hand and the blood in her veins.
“What are you—?” Edlyn started to ask, but everything after that happened so quickly that Rayne never heard the rest of the question. Rayne lifted the knife, sliding it from its sheath, her steps growing longer as she prepared for action. At the same time, someone else melted out of the alleyway behind Edlyn.
It was a short figure in a high-necked wielder's jacket and golden mask. Rayne didn't have time to cover her own face but there was no point. Danyll was here, and he had seen her and the raised knife. There was the twist of magic inside of her and he threw himself in front of Edlyn, a blast of fire shooting in Rayne's direction. Rayne dropped and rolled out of the way, while behind her she heard Tierri shout in alarm. She was crouched on the ground behind a wall, her mind reeling in panic. She looked back to Tierri for help, but he was on his knees, panting. Of course. Danyll was stealing from him. Taking the magic that he used to fill ships' sails and burn slave ownership letters, and using it to destroy her.
There was a tightness inside of her that she recognized as the feeling of gathering magic. She lunged, giving up her position behind the wall, and slammed into him. They hit the wall together. Edlyn screamed and there was a churning in Rayne's gut. She didn't know if it was Danyll's magic or regret at what she had been about to do. At what she'd been caught doing. Her stomach squeezed as she and Danyll tumbled together. He was grasping, searching, reaching for his magic, and finding…
Nothing. Just like when they had fought in the tunnels. Perhaps he did not have as much control over his borrowed magic as Edlyn believed.
The knot in Rayne’s stomach twisted but she didn’t stop her charge. The knife was still in her hand and she thrust it forward until it scraped bone, a rib, maybe. Danyll screamed, more a sound of rage than of pain, and she brought the knife around again, the hilt connecting with his nose with a sickening crunch.
Tierri was on her then; he threw her back against the other wall in the alleyway, his hand pinning her throat, her toes a few inches off the ground. She kicked and struggled, grasping at his fingers, but didn’t let go. He was crying, his face twisted in agony.
“I’m sorry,” he was saying over and over again. “I’m sorry, I can’t.”
Danyll pushed himself off the wall and wiped a hand across his nose, smearing blood up and over the bottom edge of the golden mask. His other hand held onto his side, blood trickling through his fingers. His mouth twisted into a smirk. “No little Knight boy to save you now, is there?” He laughed and it was a sound that shot straight into the pit of her stomach. “No, I took care of him. I made sure he suffered before he died, just like I'll do to you. I don’t know what your plan is or why I can’t wield against you, but I look forward to extracting all your secrets.” He was hiding behind Tierri, the coward. She lashed out with her feet but found only Tierri’s immovable thighs.