The Crown Prophecy

Chapter 20

T he first thing I registered as my brain clawed its way back to consciousness was the ringing. Its high-pitched whine was an alarm sounding, “Wake up! Something is wrong.” A part of me wanted to ignore it, to give in to my exhaustion and aching head. A gentle rocking motion that took me a moment to identify as a horse’s walk joined the effort to lull me back into unconsciousness.

A solid pressure against my stomach let me know I was draped against the beast that was carrying me.

Where was I?

The events in the parlor rushed back to me as my skull pounded, and I was suddenly wide awake. The air was bitingly cold on my chest and forearms, and I morbidly realized I must still be in my wedding dress.

Slowly, I cracked an eye open, barely a slit so as not to alert my captor I was conscious. My surroundings were dark, and from this vantage point I could only see a carpet of soil and pine needles. A forest, it would seem.

Tempting fate, I dared to look around and was relieved to find that I was alone on my horse, though the animal was tied to something ahead. Following the line of hempen rope, I saw the shadowy figure of a man on another steed ahead, hazy through the fog.

I focused my energy inward to the glowing core of power I had been trying to pull from unsuccessfully all week. Normally I could at least sense it there, a warmth in my chest that, even when I couldn’t access it, assured me that it was ready to strike if I could only figure out how to tap into it. Now, though? Nothing. A cavernous, dull ache was the only thing I felt when I reached out to my Gift.

Was this how the Mundanes felt all the time? Though I’d gone most of my life without knowing I had magic, the glaring discomfort of its sudden absence made me wonder how I had ever overlooked it in the first place.

I tried again and again, growing increasingly panicked as I threw myself at the block until I had a hard time concealing my panting from the effort.

It wouldn’t do me any good to exert myself so much that I alerted Helmund I was awake, so I forced myself to breathe soundlessly. The fact that he assumed I was still unconscious was the only slight edge I had, and I clung to it tightly.

Think, Quinn. If I couldn’t access my power, Helmund must’ve already done something to me while I was unconscious. My stomach roiled at the thought of him picking through my mind, finding that string of power, and pulling on it. How had he done it?

Wracking my brain, I recalled his words back in the castle. “After we Siphon Maddox’s power.” That must’ve been what he had done to me. After he had thrown that knife.

Oh gods, Mother .

I began to panic anew. The look on her face as the blood spread through the bodice of her dress was something I knew I would see in my nightmares for the rest of my life. I hadn’t gotten a good look at the wound, but anything in the chest couldn’t be good. Would anyone find her in time, or had she bled out on the carpet of that room?

As complicated as my relationship with my mother may be, I didn’t want her lying cold and lifeless in the castle. I had too many questions I needed her to answer.

My heart warred between primal fear for my mother and an ugly emotion I didn’t dare name that whispered she had brought her fate upon herself. The things she had plotted to do to my magic, to me, to Evander . . .

Had he gotten away? Or had he been dealt the same hand I had? Or worse? I didn’t let myself dwell on that thought even for a second. If I started thinking about the worst-case scenario, I would lose any semblance of rational thinking. My mind was my only weapon right now and I couldn’t afford to lose it.

Still, the questions swam in my head, threatening to drag me into their undercurrent. Had they gotten Vanessa too? Colette?

My breathing began to pick up again, and I counted my inhales through my nose, holding for a few seconds before blowing out my mouth as slowly as I could. Shoving all my fear and grief into a tiny box in my mind, I slammed the lid shut. I was going to get out of this, and I was going to help my friends. My chosen family.

Helmund shifted in his saddle and grunted as he turned to scan our surroundings. I closed my eyes, schooled my face into immobility, and prayed to every god I could think of that he hadn’t realized I was awake.

Thankfully, it seemed at least one of those old deities took pity on me, because I heard nothing but the hooves of our horses as we trotted along for several more minutes. By the time I found the courage to open my eyes again, Helmund had directed his attention to his saddlebag, rummaging around hastily, nodding once, and closing the flap without removing anything.

Our horses picked their way through the forest for what felt like several hours, and he repeated this ritual at least four more times. Each time, he breathed a sigh of relief before closing it back up.

Either he was too concerned with whatever he was carrying to worry about me escaping, or he grossly underestimated me, because he only turned around to look at me once during the journey, his face curling into a sneer in the light of the lantern fastened on his belt.

At last we reached a small clearing and he dismounted, pausing to remove the bag from his horse and attach it to his person before coming to deal with me.

Grumbling, he tossed me over his shoulder.

Resisting the urge to strike out, to scream and rage and thrash at this man who had taken the best day of my life and turned it into this monstrosity of terror and injustice, was one of the hardest things I’d ever done. I forced myself to stay still and limp, praying he would keep his guard down and give me an opening to free myself.

Unfortunately, I had no such luck, and my wrist restraints stayed in place even as he deposited me roughly at the base of a tree. With my eyes closed, I braced myself with every movement he made, fearful of what he would deem a fit way to incapacitate me for the night.

In the end, he simply produced an extra length of rope, looping it through the space between my wrists and securing it to the tree.

His overconfidence was a dangerous flaw, one for which I was profoundly grateful. The oaf didn’t even bother to make sure my fingers were bound. While my wrists were tied too tightly to reach the knot that secured them, I was almost certain I could get myself untethered from the tree if he slept. Maybe there would be something in the forest I could wedge between the restraints to sever them. If I could just get away.

I waited as Helmund started a fire and sat in front of the flames, drinking deeply from a flask of something I strongly suspected was not water.

What felt like hours passed before he slumped onto his bed roll and his breathing evened out.

This was my opening.

Rising as quietly as I could from my position on the forest floor, I began creeping toward the back of the trunk where the rope was secured, waiting a few heartbeats between each step to ensure he wasn’t stirring. My heart pounded in my throat as I began working at the knot.

While he may have been sloppy in his plan, his execution left nothing to be desired. The ligature was strong and tight, and I clawed at it until my fingers burned, nails snapping and shredding as I tried to pry it apart.

Fatigue plagued me, though whether it was from whatever Helmund used to incapacitate me, a lack of food, or the disconnection from my power, I didn’t know. I tried to ignore the horrible sense of wrongness that I could feel emanating from that cavernous place inside of me. I needed to focus on freeing myself.

Finally, millimeter by millimeter, I felt it give way, and nearly cried in relief as I slipped the end through my wrists and took three careful steps away from the trunk.

I had done it. The treeline loomed only a few dozen feet away. If I got to it without waking Helmund, I could run as fast as my legs could carry me away from here. I wasn’t sure how far away from the castle I was, but anything was better than wherever he was taking me.

The man lay gracelessly by the fire, his jaw hanging open, flask still clutched in his left hand. I regarded him with distaste, wishing I could grab the dagger on his belt and use it to end him the same way he had ended my mother.

The vengeful thought jarred me, even as I imagined the satisfaction I’d find watching the shocked expression dawn on his face as he realized underestimating me had been his undoing. It was a dark, ugly fantasy, and I knew that getting the dagger off his person was a far bigger risk than was wise when I had this opportunity to escape.

As I turned away from him, my eyes caught on his bag. The bag he’d checked compulsively as we traveled here. Surely it was foolish not to flee, but looking at the satchel, I felt a tug behind my navel. Leaving it behind felt impossible. Whatever it contained was calling to the very essence of who I was, and I had a spark of impossible hope as I realized that it felt like me. Like my power.

It was a gamble, but something in my gut told me leaving here without it was the wrong choice.

Half cursing myself and half praying I was right, I inched toward the bag as silently as possible. Helmund’s other hand reached out for it, even in sleep, another indication that whatever it held was important.

When I got close enough to smell the alcohol on his breath, I sent another prayer up to the gods and reached for the saddlebag. My heart sank as I registered the strap grasped in his hand; I would have to remove whatever was inside rather than stealing the whole thing.

The leather flap was secured with a metal clasp, and I held my breath as I undid it. The soft clinking noise had the potential to become my death toll if I wasn’t careful enough.

Thankfully, the alcohol seemed to have a sedating effect on Helmund, who stayed fast asleep.

I slid my joined hands inside gingerly, rummaging around a piece of cloth and a crust of bread until I made contact with a small velvet pouch. My blood sang in response to the touch, as if straining to get closer to it. My Gift. It had to be. My heart leapt at the possibility of ridding myself of this horrible, empty feeling. I undid the strings of the bag and reached inside.

The moment my hands touched the cool, smooth vial, Helmund’s eyes flew open.

Faster than I could process, he snarled and launched himself at me, tackling me to the ground. The bottle rolled out of my reach as he pushed his forearm across my throat.

“You’re not supposed to be awake, filthy little Wielder bitch,” he seethed, pressing into my windpipe so hard I couldn’t breathe.

Something in his gaze turned feral. “King Orobas wanted you alive, but he can’t possibly blame me when he hears that you stole my knife in the middle of the night and slit your own throat to avoid capture,” he mocked, every word drenched in alcohol.

My eyes pricked with tears as his hand slid to the dagger in his belt, and I thrashed helplessly as I realized what was about to happen. I should never have gone for the pack; I should have run.

I’d always thought of myself as a brave person, but I couldn’t help closing my eyes as he drew the dagger back with his free hand, waiting for the killing blow.

I’m sorry, Evander, I sobbed in my mind, I’m so sorry.

Of course I was failing him, the man I loved most in the world, the first person who had truly accepted me for what I was and made me dream that I could be more. How foolish I was to think I could have everything I wanted, that my life would be a fairytale out of one of my novels. I should have known it would end unremarkably, with me alone, bleeding out on the forest floor in a cruel parallel to my last moments with mother.

The moment of impact drew on for lifetimes as I waited for the pain, the blood, for my breathing to get ragged until it stopped altogether. Gods, I would never see my father again. Mellie, Colette, Vanessa, James, and Serena’s faces flashed before my eyes; I had already been given so much more than I deserved. Tears streamed down my cheeks, Helmund’s arm still heavy on my throat as I braced for the impact.

But instead of the sharp pain of a knife at my throat, there was only a heavy weight on my whole body. Helmund was lying on me, his own breathing labored as he let out a guttural yell.

An arrow stuck out from behind his back and he frantically grabbed for it as we lay there for several seconds, my mind struggling to catch up with reality.

“Freeze,” a female voice ordered.

A pair of smaller, warm hands appeared, shoving him off me before their owner kneeled by my side.

I looked up, dazed, into a pair of wide, panicked eyes I knew well. Colette.

“Oh my gods, Quinn, are you all right?” she asked. Vanessa strode up behind her, bow still in her hand.

“No time for reunions yet, my love,” Vanessa sneered, making eye contact with Helmund. Blood was seeping into the forest floor, dark and sticky. “First we have to deal with this son of a bitch.”

He gave her a glare of pure hatred as she leaned close to his face and snarled, “Where. Is. My. Mother?”

“And who would that be?” The words were labored, but he still spit them with as much vitriol as he could manage.

Vanessa took a step back and sighed as if she were only tremendously annoyed by the man’s ignorance. Examining her nails, she spoke slowly, as if explaining something to a particularly difficult child.

“You know very well who I’m talking about, and I’d thank you not to insult my intelligence by feigning otherwise. Now, I’m going to ask you again, and I suggest for your own sake you answer me honestly: where is my mother?”

Helmund let out a laugh that turned into a wet cough.

“For my own sake? What exactly does a spoiled little palace girl think she can possibly do to make me talk? You’re a good shot, I’ll give you that, but it’s going to take more than an arrow to the back to overpower me.” He grunted but remained frozen on the ground. Vanessa’s command had worked.

Realizing he was unable to rise, his expression widened for a second before he schooled it back into smug nonchalance.

“I don’t think it will,” Vanessa crooned, leaning down until their faces were only a few inches apart. “So I’m going to give you one more chance at this.”

“I’m not telling you anything, Wielder scum.”

Vanessa straightened, dusting off her trousers, and shrugged as if there simply wasn’t anything else to be done. “All right then. What a pity.”

“‘Captain’ Maddox is going to get what she deserves,” Helmund boasted. “I just hope they make her suffer a little bit first. If anyone should pay, it’s her. Propping up those Wielder oppressors in the castle . . . Who knows? Maybe the poor captain will have an accident on the road and won’t make it to King Orobas in one piece.” He sounded darkly hopeful.

Vanessa’s expression shifted, and a terrifying, vengeful coldness overtook her amber eyes.

“Grab the arrow.”

Helmund looked bewildered for a moment, processing the strange request, but a few heartbeats later his arm was moving to where the shaft protruded from his back.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“Oh no,” Vanessa tutted with a mocking smile. “The better question is what are you doing? Why would you twist that arrow into your own back?”

Another flash of gold and Helmund did just that, writhing in pain as the pool of blood around him expanded.

“Now pull it out,” Vanessa ordered, dropping her grin. “And don’t attempt to get up.”

Helmund’s tough exterior made way to true panic as he yanked the arrow out with a shout.

“Nessa,” Colette began, but Vanessa’s eyes didn’t soften at all as she cut her off.

“This man isn’t fit to breathe anymore. Let him reap what he’s sown.” She turned to us. “We should go.”

Helmund’s face was in the dirt now, his back moving up and down at irregular intervals. There was so much blood. I turned my face away, unable to stomach the gore of his open wound. A twinge of pity stirred in my heart, but this man had been about to kill me. Had already killed my mother and orchestrated whatever hells Evander was currently trapped in.

Vanessa stalked back to the edge of the forest, and Colette gave me an apologetic glance over her shoulder before hurrying after her.

There wasn’t anything I could do to help Helmund even if I wanted to, and if I was honest with myself, I didn’t. But it didn’t feel right to leave him like this either.

I ran back to his pack and grabbed the vial of my power, slinging the bag over my shoulder for future investigation.

Returning to where he lay, I crouched down. “If you help me, I can at least ease your suffering. What do I do with this?” I asked, holding up the bottle of soft orange liquid. It was slightly luminescent, giving off a soft, swirling glow.

Helmund’s eyes stayed closed, but he gave an almost imperceptible shake of his head.

“Where is King Evander?” I tried.

He didn’t respond at all this time.

“Where is Evander?” I asked more forcefully.

His breaths were shallow and labored, and they got fewer and farther between as I squatted in the dirt, trying to ignore the stinging in my eyes as I forced myself to get any information that might help those who had been taken.

I asked question after question, but Helmund gave nothing. The arrow was still clutched in his hand, and his fingers only went limp around it when his back stopped rising and falling.

Standing, I willed myself not to cry as I took in the hopelessness of the situation. We had no idea where in Falerin they had taken Evander and Maddox. My power pulsed from the vial in my hand, but I had no idea how to access it. Drinking it seemed like the most likely option, but could prove disastrous if I were wrong.

Pacing to the treeline, I found Vanessa sitting on a stump, Colette’s hand resting on her back.

“Is he . . .?” Colette asked.

I swallowed and nodded my head, the only affirmation I could manage.

Vanessa looked up, her eyes ringed in red as she gritted her teeth and ground out, “Good.”

“How did you even find me?” I asked. Piecing together the narrative of the evening was a good place to start.

“We never found my mother,” Vanessa said. “When I saw your bench empty, it didn’t take us very long to realize something was wrong. We mounted up as fast as we could and picked up his trail without a problem. Bastard was sloppy.”

“Did you find my mother?” I asked, afraid of the answer.

Colette tilted her head quizzically. “No. Why?”

I wasn’t sure if it was better not to know, or to have confirmation that she was gone. Both options made me sick.

“I’m not even sure she’s alive. I have a lot to tell you.” I looked around, a phantom chill making me shudder. “But not right now. I can’t breathe here.”

Colette nodded in agreement, looking back to the campsite where Helmund’s body lay.

“How is your Gift working so strongly outside the castle?” I asked Vanessa, registering her control over him.

My friends exchanged nervous, knowing glances.

“We’re not sure,” Colette said. “It could just be that we’ve been inside the palace grounds so long that whatever bolstering effect it had will take a while to wear off, but . . .” she trailed off.

“But?”

Vanessa cut in. “We think all of the wards in Enorias are down.”

My vision swam as I tried to make sense of her words. “What do you mean ‘down?’”

“From what I understand, the wards are powered by the magic of Enorian Wielders, but their power needs to be focused by the monarchs. Since you don’t have access to your Gift right now and I’m guessing Evander has been similarly incapacitated, there’s no one to keep them up.”

“How does that affect you two?” I asked.

“Well,” Colette began carefully, “the wards take a lot of power. Without that drain on our Gifts, we might be able to access them more strongly, the way Wielders were able to before the war . . .”

When the wards were erected to protect the people from Falerin’s clutches, I realized.

“But that means our people will be defenseless if Orobas tries to invade,” I said. I was going to vomit.

Vanessa nodded grimly in confirmation. “We need to find Evander and get the both of you back to Enorias as soon as we possibly can.”

I nodded mutely. Colette met my gaze, fear for Enorias and pity at my disheveled state warring on her face. Vanessa must’ve followed her train of thought, because she threw me a leather bag that blessedly contained a change of clothes.

“This was all I had time to grab, but I figured it would be better than what you’re wearing. Change, and we’ll head out.” Looking around, she made her way towards the trees where Helmund’s horses had been tacked.

I whispered my thanks and shucked off my ruined wedding dress. Tears threatened to overtake me again as I looked at the creamy fabric in a pile on the forest floor, ripped and matted with dirt and blood. Remembering the joy I felt putting it on this morning, surrounded by my friends and about to marry the love of my life, was like a knife to the gut. Had it only been a day since everything had fallen apart?

I stood dumbly while my friends gathered our supplies. I needed to go through Helmund’s pack, but it was too dark to conduct a thorough investigation, and I wasn’t sure I was ready to face whatever I found inside.

When Vanessa asked me which horse I’d be riding, I froze. I couldn’t ride the mare I had been tied up on. Just looking at the saddle threatened full-scale panic. But the thought of riding Helmund’s horse made my stomach churn.

The anxiety must’ve shown on my face, because Colette walked up and offered me the reins to the sweet-looking Palomino they had ridden to my rescue.

“Here.” She extended the reins toward me. “Ride Buttercup. She’s Nessa’s childhood horse, and she’s gentle as a mouse.” Nodding gratefully, I mounted up.

Scanning the forest helplessly, a small strangled noise bubbled up from my throat.

“I don’t even know where he is,” I said.

Colette trotted up next to me and reached across the gap between our horses to take my hand. “Let’s start by getting to Falerin. We’ll be able to plan better when we know what we're facing.”

I swallowed, and she gave my hand a small squeeze of reassurance.

Turning in the direction Helmund had been heading before we stopped to make camp, my friends and I rode into the night, unsure of what the dawn would bring.