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The locket that can be used as a signal to my men. If the sorcerer presses his thumb to the pane on the inside, they’ll know where to find me.
But the stout man has only peeked inside and otherwise has been murmuring fragments of the odd language the scourge sorcerers use while examining the exterior.
“Have you untangled the magic on it?” Lothar asks.
The sorcerer shakes his head. “It’s definitely been blessed, but it’s not giving me any impressions of specifically how. That must mean it’s not currently active. I can’t pick up on any magic emanating off it right now.”
“Keep it in that containment box of yours, then. We don’t want to risk it creating some disruptive effect when we’re not prepared.”
The lopsided man turns back to me. “I don’t suppose you’d tell me the truth about what it’s for if I let you speak.”
I simply glare back at him, wishing my hatred could sear into him the way my magic currently can’t.
Lothar hums to himself. “Tie her hair back. The style doesn’t need to be ornate. We’ll cover it with the hood of her cloak regardless.”
Zaneta wets her lips. “Are we going tonight?”
“The more time we delay, the more chance Konram has to adjust his plans. Gods only know what he’s made of recent events.” He glances toward her accomplice. “We won’t be able to bring the blessed one right into the palace. He’ll be too obvious. You can continue channeling power from a bit of a distance, I assume.”
His sorcerer bobs her head. “Yes, Master Lothar. But it’ll take all my concentration.”
“That’s perfectly fine.” Lothar’s smirk crawls back across his face as his gaze meets mine. “Our riven sorcerer will finally do something worthwhile with that wild magic of hers. She can take care of the rest.”
A chill sweeps through my body. I flail against the invisible hold on me with a renewed surge of defiance, but I still can’t budge a single muscle.
What is he going to do with me?
What is he going to make me do?
I don’t know whether Lothar can read my horror in my stiffened expression or if my response is easy to guess. He steps closer to me, his pale brown eyes gleaming with a manic light.
“You don’t like this? Such a pity. You’re lucky you had as many years of freedom as you did. Your kind is an abomination—a blight on the realms. Born with so much power you never had to give up so much as a tuft of hair for… You should be grateful I’m letting you be such an important part of our revolution.”
Is he sour about how much he sacrificed for whatever gift he’s got? It’s not as if anyone forced the choice on him.
And he doesn’t even bother to use his own magic much, considering the way he’s ordering his underlings to handle all the sorcery.
What exactly is he so bitter about?
I can only imagine the caustic remarks Julita would have made about the royal advisor—and imagining them makes my gut twist with the loss.
Somehow she always found something to say that bolstered my spirits, no matter how dire a situation we found ourselves in. I got used to having that bit of company—of friendship—as ephemeral as her ghost was.
It’s better for her that she’s moved on. She deserves some peace. And I have plenty of practice surviving on my own.
I never thought I’d find myself in a position where I didn’t want to.
Lothar snaps his fingers at the men in the soldier uniforms. “Prepare the carriage. I want to be riding out within the hour.”
Zaneta sucks in a breath. “What would you have me do with her once we reach the palace?”
The magic advisor lets out a cool chuckle. “If all goes well, I’ll be able to get us right to the royal family through my authority alone. Stay ready to intervene on my command if needed. We’ll gather them all in the audience room.”
His gaze pierces me, even colder than before. “The moment we step into the room and she can see them, have her crack every one of their pretty royal skulls.”
Two
Ivy
