A Queen of Ice (A Trial of Sorcerers #5)

Chapter 38

38

T he city was being sundered from the inside. Even from where they stood at the crest of the hill, the shockwaves from the flash beads threatened to knock them over. Far below them, the second wall crumbled in on itself.

The Archives came to life. Knights scrambled and began to form a barricade in front of the entry. The massive doors of the Archives—ones that took chains and wheels to open and at least ten people each to close—were beginning to shut.

“We can’t let them barricade it.” Olivin’s eyes swung back to her and everything seemed to still.

“Then let’s go.”

He looked between her and the knights. “There’s not going to be a way for us to get in, undetected…not without drawing their attention when they’re already on high alert. Our illusions are good, but not that good, and you know it.”

“With my rune, I can?—”

He silenced her with a look. Kind. Gentle even. But knowing her emotions all too well, probably even better than she did. His hand rested on her cheek. “You are the most astounding woman I have ever met, but—though you might be loathe to admit it—even you have your limitations.”

“Olivin…” Her heart was in her throat, threatening to choke her. She knew he had been planning to stay behind. That they would be forced to bear time apart. But she wasn’t ready for it to happen now . She’d never be ready. And something about this moment felt so much more final than the goodbye she’d been bracing for.

“You wanted me to let you live your life as you were meant to do—extend me the same courtesy, what you always have done.” He knew what he was going to do. His mind was made up. She saw it in his eyes before any words were said or actions were taken. The raw determination.

“Damn it, why do you have to be a hero?” she whispered.

“When this is over, we could have a beautiful little home. A place we return to after the toils of our adventure. A place of rest. Once Ulvarth is gone, there will be so much opportunity for us to make Meru—the place you always loved—just as we want it.” His brows tilted up in the middle slightly, eyes alight with amusement at his own words. She choked on soft laughter. He was being ridiculous, and knew it. But there was something to the wild fantasy of them having a quaint little home to retreat to when it was all over that protected them for one last breath from the chaos rising around them. One last second in the eye of the storm. “This could be a home, our home .”

“I have a home,” she whispered, eyes stinging. “And it has a name: Stormfrost .”

“I know. And I love you for it.” Even with Cullen right next to her, Olivin grabbed her face and pulled her to him. Eira’s eyes dipped closed and she kissed him. It even tasted of longing for a time that hadn’t yet passed.

She didn’t let him pull away when he tried. Eira grabbed his shirt with her fist and yanked, closing the gap between them once more. His lips crashed into hers and Olivin let out a startled yelp that she smothered with her mouth. She kissed him like it would be their last time. Like the stars that were her guides would burn out and the winds would never see her return to this port.

“I love you,” she whispered across his mouth as he pulled away.

His eyes widened a fraction. Something akin to joy curled the corners of his lips. “I knew it,” he finally breathed. “Now, get Yonlin for me. No matter what, keep him safe.”

“You stay alive long enough to do it yourself.” She ran her hands over his face, mapping it. “Stay alive long enough to show me that stupid, quaint little house so I can tell you how foolish it is and kidnap you for good.”

He laughed, even the sound was tinged with pain. “I’ll try.”

She wanted to demand he say it again but, this time, convince her it wasn’t a lie. The doors groaned as they began to open. Their time had run out.

He pulled away, her hands slipping from his person. With one final, roguish grin, Olivin dropped his illusion. She choked on shock. Even knowing what was coming, the world ground to a halt, every second slower than the last. Nothing escaped her mouth even when she wanted to call out to him. Cullen held her in place as she jerked forward—thrusting out a hand, as if she could grab him back.

“Wynry,” Olivin roared, “Let’s end this once and for all!”

A figure emerged from among the knights, slipping out from between the doors. Each one of her steps was slow and deliberate. Eira was reminded of a great feline, predatory and deadly. The familial resemblance was unmistakable. Knights encircled them, as if making an arena. Their focus was entirely on Olivin.

“About time, brother. I just knew you’d be dumb enough to come alone. You always loved Yonlin best.” Wynry’s remark had Eira realizing that the walls going down made the Pillars think that she was farther down the slope.

“It’s easier to love the sibling that didn’t kill your father,” Olivin countered.

Magic blazed. Lightspinning words shouted magic into existence as Wynry and Olivin lunged for each other. Eira knew that only one of them was walking away from this and, just like she had to be the one to end Ulvarth, he had to be the one to kill his sister.

Eira forced herself to move. Every footstep felt like she was ripping off a part of her. The reverberation through her legs had her teeth rattling. Pain arced through her as they slipped into the doors of the Archives before they slammed shut.

What had she done? What had she done?

She navigated through the stairs of the Archives, releasing Cullen and relaxing her illusion only when it was absolutely essential—and no one else was around—to climb the ladders. He followed her without word or question, all the way to the secret door that she’d been instructed to go through by Deneya and Taavin nearly a year ago.

Her very first mission for the Court of Shadows had led to her last subterfuge in Risen.

She guided Cullen on the ascent through the pitch-black passages behind the great vault of knowledge. Though, they didn’t make it far before he stopped all movement. Eira tugged. Cullen didn’t move. Instead, he shifted his hand, gripping her wrist as much as she was his, and pulled her toward him.

They tumbled, landing awkwardly. They’d made more noise than they should, but realistically, the rising chaos masked any sounds that could be heard outside the secret passage.

Still, she pushed away, a stab of anger sharpening her words. “Cullen, there’s no time.”

“I’m sorry.” He pulled her in again. Gently, he stroked the back of her head.

She opened her mouth to ask him what for, but then it dawned on her. The man was comforting her over Olivin. Her strength fractured and she buried her face in his neck by his shoulder. Selfishly taking a breath for herself. For every quivering beat of her heart.

“He’s strong, he’ll be all right,” Cullen soothed.

“What if he’s not?” Eira whispered, the words harrowed and thin. “ I left him .”

“You trusted him,” Cullen corrected. “To know what he was doing and have the strength to do it.”

Just like she had asked of Olivin .

“What if he… Did I just create another situation like Noelle’s?” she said, admitting to her greatest fear.

“He’ll be all right,” Cullen emphasized. She didn’t entirely believe it. How could she with all those guards charging after him.

“I would’ve thought this would make you happy. Seeing Olivin left behind like this.” Focusing on him, rather than herself, was a far easier task.

“I don’t ‘win’ in a world where you are not happy.” He kissed her temple, then her forehead, then her other temple. Cullen shifted to take both cheeks in his warm, rough hands and drew her face to his, claiming her mouth.

In the darkness, she eased into him. She kissed him like it might be the last kiss she’d ever have. Her hands stretched across his chest, kneaded his muscle, balled into his shirt.

“You’re not wishing for his death?” she broke apart to whisper.

“I might want you all to myself, but I’m not a monster.” The pad of his thumb dragged over her mouth. Without sight, she knew he was focused on her lips, wet with his affections.

“We shouldn’t be wasting time. Come on, we’re not far now.” Even as she went to move, he held her hand fast.

“How are you going to do it?”

“What?”

“Kill Ulvarth.”

“I’ve a dagger meant for him.” Eira patted her thigh, where the one Ulvarth had left for her after she killed Ferro was strapped.

“Do you remember what I told you during the tournament?”

“You told me a lot during the tournament. You’ll have to be more specific.” She felt her words coming a bit faster, they needed to get moving. Olivin was offering a valuable distraction but would be subdued soon. If they wanted to have any chance of getting back to him and assisting, they needed to move.

“You cannot simply kill him.” As soon as he said it, she remembered his cautioning against it. That, if Ulvarth were to die under mysterious causes, it would create a space for another to fill. Or he would be hailed as a martyr. His power would only grow.

“I have a plan,” she assured him.

“Which is?”

“I’m going to use my echoes against him—I’ll show all of Risen exactly the man he is.”

“And if that doesn’t work?” Cullen’s tone sounded like he equally disliked the idea of doubting her. But Eira had begun to take it as a healthy skepticism—as him vetting her plans. And, to his knowledge, this was all new. She hadn’t told any of them of her true plot out of fear that she wouldn’t be able to accomplish her goals.

Eira’s smile dropped, twisting into a grimace. “Then it doesn’t work. I understand your caution, and there was a time where I would’ve agreed with you, Cullen. But even if I cannot undo him, I will still end him; that’s all that matters. Whatever happens after, for good or ill, is Meru’s concern. My fight—my loyalties—aren’t to Meru. They’re to myself. I’m not here as a liberator, I’m here because I have a personal score to settle.”

“As long as you know what you’re doing.” He released her.

“I do.” Eira started up once more, ascending through the last stretch of the Archives and her thoughts. She knew he was right. Ending Ulvarth might only be the beginning of problems for Meru. But those weren’t her problems to try and solve. She would make it clear that any who threatened her, ever, would be met with brutality. Then, once free of this tiresome game, she’d sail off the edge of the map with her ever-expanding pirate family.

As they reached the top, another explosion rocked the earth. It was quickly followed by two more. The first wall collapsing? Cannons at the wharf? It was impossible to know, tucked in the walls of the Archives. But luckily, Eira knew where she could get a good vantage.

They emerged from the hatch that overlooked the Flame of Yargen, burning in its massive brazier at the apex of the Archives. Eira slowed for a moment, the heat of the fire battering her cheeks.

Eira led Cullen away from it, back toward the ladder that ascended to the final room of the Archives—the room Eira suspected Wynry and Ulvarth would’ve hid Yonlin within. And, if not Yonlin, then perhaps Ulvarth himself. This room was hidden and well protected, both things he’d desire if he didn’t have his magic still. Especially with suspicion of an attack incoming. The coward would want to hide, ride out the storm, and then claim he’d managed to survive because of his own skill.

“Be ready to strike, just in case,” Eira whispered. “There’s a room just up that ladder. When we ascend, let me know if you can feel any movements in the air that would suggest a person inside.”

Cullen nodded and they climbed. At the top, they paused on the tiny landing. Cullen crouched, resting his cheek against the floor. It looked almost as if he was trying to peer through the crack of the door, but Eira could sense every shift of his magic.

Without a sound, he eased away and gave her a slight nod. Eira bore a hole in the door with her stare, bracing herself. There was no sound coming from within, making it impossible to tell who was inside.

Unsheathing the dagger, Eira slowly pushed open the door. The room was empty. Cullen dipped his chin slightly toward the door diagonal from them in a gesture that read, There . Stalking through the room, Eira shifted her grip on the dagger as her palm splayed across the ajar door. There wasn’t enough space for her to peer through.

She held her breath, listening. A faint clanking sound, almost like a glass being set on a table, or perhaps chains. Only one way to find out which.

In one swift movement, she threw open the door and lunged into the room. Wind was under her heels, propelling her. The dagger flashed in the first morning light streaming through the window.

She stopped short. It wasn’t Ulvarth.

But it wasn’t Yonlin, either.

“The goddess’s red lines of fate are certainly tied in interesting knots to bring us together again in this forsaken place,” Taavin, the Voice of Yargen, said almost nonchalantly.