Chained Soul by Eva Chase
19
Whitt
My voice spills out into the silence of my study, intoning the last few magically charged words that will bind the pieces of my spell together—and to the item I’m attaching it to. Energy tingles through me, thrumming in my throat. Then I lean back in my chair, contemplating the duskapple tart on its plain plate.
What would August have thought of my request to nab one of these if he’d known what I was going to do with it? Well, I suppose I’ll find out soon enough. I’ll set the process in motion, and the knowledge that it’s already done should help ease any qualms he has about dishonesty.
He won’t be deceiving anyone else, only making use of a pre-existing trick.
No, I don’t actually feel any guilt about going ahead with this without August’s preapproval. I’m simply doing my job. What makes me hesitate is the thought of how I’m going to present it to our mate.
I know what Talia would say if I told her my full intentions. She’d refuse to have any part in my plan. The blasted rat has won her over enough that she’d put his rights over the possibility of saving her and ending this war—and he’s possibly won more than I’d like of her heart as well. If Corwin is picking up on other emotions brewing inside her…
I set that thought aside and tuck the tart into a cloth pouch before looping the drawstring cord around my wrist. My mate is ill, and it’s also my job to protect her. If I could go far enough to erase her screams of pain from her past as well her future, I would. Whatever anger she might feel toward me afterward will be mine to bear.
I’ll bear it happily if she’s well enough to lay it into me.
When I step out of the study, the hall is quiet. No screams or groans carry through the air now. After the bad series of fits on our way back from the Serene Springs, which gripped her on and off for most of the journey, she had another wrenching spell that kept her up a significant part of the night. Nothing we attempted appeared to lessen her agony at all.
By the end of it, the whites of her eyes were ruddy and her nose had started to bleed. The Murk king’s destruction is seeping right through her body now.
We have to end this curse before it tears her apart completely.
Nudging open Talia’s bedroom door, I find her subdued but awake, nestled against Corwin on the bed. The raven shifter nods to me in acknowledgment and kisses the top of Talia’s head. She eases her arms away from him, knowing we’re changing “shifts.” Corwin has business to attend to in his domain, as much as I know he wants to spend every minute at our mate’s side.
Technically it isn’t my turn to watch over her. Sylas intended to come by in an hour or two. I’m simply getting my work done in the meantime, and I can’t say I mind being in Talia’s presence while I do.
As Corwin gets up, I sit down at her other side. She leans into me, a tremor running through her body against mine as if it was taking a huge amount of energy just to sit up on her own for the few moments she did. Another twist of concern winds around my gut.
We may not have much time at all. Orion wants to draw out her torment and our distress alongside hers, but he also wants to see us crushed sooner rather than later. And even if she’ll survive for weeks longer, I’m afraid the curse is starting to damage her in ways we won’t be able to fix even if we can free her from its continuing grasp.
I leave the pouch with the tart at the end of the bed and wrap my arms around Talia, taking all of her weight. She sags into me with a sigh that speaks of exhaustion and frustration.
“I hate feeling like this,” she mutters. “So wrung out but like I can’t really relax. It hurts a little bit everywhere.”
I nuzzle her temple, my throat constricting. If my plan works, I remind myself, she won’t have to feel this way for much longer.
“We’re still exploring possible cures,” I say. “And searching for a way to get at the source of Orion’s power. Perhaps our rat shifter friend will come through with another inspiration.”
I brought up Madoc on purpose to get us started on that subject. Talia reaches toward her pillow and picks up the flower-shaped charm the Murk man brought her. I hadn’t realized she was keeping it so close to her.
She traces its petals, gazing down at it as if she’s hoping to find some kind of answer in its stitching. The thought of her having this present from him next to her as she sleeps twists me up inside in a totally different way. I have to hold back my fangs from emerging.
Talia glances up at me. “Is Madoc all right? You’ve been letting him leave the cabin now and then, haven’t you? And he’ll have to go back to check in with Orion again at some point.”
She’s worried about him even when she’s in such a bad state. I swallow down the knowledge that if all goes as I intend, he’ll be scampering back to his king much sooner than expected.
“As far as I know, he’s faring just fine,” I say. “He’s a rat; he must be used to holing up in tight spaces.”
Sick as she is, Talia manages to shoot me a chiding look. I run my fingers up and down her back, tamping down on my guilt. “Would you like to go have a visit with him? We could have him come over to the castle like he did before so you don’t have to strain yourself much.”
And then I’ll offer her the tart to present to him, and of course he’ll take any gift she offers without the suspicion he’d level at a similar gesture from one of us fae. When he eats it, my spell will take hold all through his body without him even noticing it. And after they’ve spoken, I’ll take him aside and “reveal” that we’ve discovered the location of his Refuge. That we’re going to launch an attack as soon as we’ve gathered our forces.
Then August and I will decide on arranging a convenient moment when he can escape. Madoc will dash right back to warn his king—and my spell will let us track him there. We’ll descend on the Refuge right at his heels and destroy both his king and the false Heart that’s powering all our curses.
Simple, elegant, and quick—the best sort of plan. If Madoc won’t help us confront his king directly, then why shouldn’t I force his hand?
Maybe he’ll even thank me in the end.
Talia rubs her mouth. “I would like to spend time with him, just to give him some company. But I don’t want him to feel bad when he sees me and can tell nothing he brought really helped.”
Oh, my mighty, tender-hearted mate. I gently kiss the side of her head. “I think he’ll be more worried if he doesn’t hear from you, and that he’ll appreciate spending the time with you enough to offset the rest.”
Talia raises her eyebrows. “Are you starting to believe that helping me really does matter to him and that it’s not all some kind of trick?”
I let out a soft laugh and answer totally honestly, “It’s not very hard to believe that, the way he’s stuck his neck out for you.”
The way he talks to her. The way he looks at her.
Talia tucks her hand around mine, twining our fingers. “I’m glad. It was good, seeing the two of you working together. Maybe you’ll be able to come up with another plan like that. Thank you for giving him a chance. I know it isn’t easy with all the history between the Seelie and the Murk.”
Her gratitude sends a sharper jab of guilt right through my chest. I have to force my smile. “I’m willing to keep an open mind if it makes it easier for us to protect you and the rest of the Mists.”
“Good. You know…” She pauses as if it’s taking a moment for her to get her thoughts in order. “It isn’t really fair that the Murk lost so much. So what if a lot of them liked to lie and trick people, and that weakened their connection to the real Heart? Why should Madoc or any of the others have had to start out already so distant from it when they hadn’t done anything yet? And—you and the other fae of the Mists find all kinds of ways of tricking each other and giving the wrong impression by talking around the truth, but as long as you stick to the letter of the law, the Heart’s given you a pass. At least… at least the Murk are upfront in their lies instead of acting like they’re being truthful when they’re not.”
She lapses into silence again, leaving me struggling for words. She can’t know what I was thinking. The unfairness she just commented on has obviously been on her mind for a while.
But I can’t say she’s wrong, can I? I have deceived my fellow fae, more times than I can count even since I’ve known her. I mean to do the same with Madoc just minutes from now—laying out just the right words to make him think what I want him to without actually saying anything that’s strictly untrue.
Isthat really so much better? Does it make me so much more deserving?
As far as the Heart is concerned, apparently so. But to Talia…
A knot forms in my stomach. She just thanked me for being someone I’m not, someone much more open and generous. And, blast it all, I want to be the man she sees me as. She’s always found the goodness in me even when I had trouble believing in myself.
My other hand reaches for the pouch with the tart, but I don’t mention it to her, only carry it with me as I help her downstairs to the summer-side entrance. A quick word to one of the castle guards sends him off to fetch Madoc. Talia settles into the grass, and I magically summon a few pillows from inside the castle so she can lean back against them to better preserve her strength.
I can still go through with my plan. I haven’t backed out of it. I simply want to observe Madoc once more to be sure of my resolve before I make the final arrangements.
I find myself watching my mate as much as the direction where Madoc will appear. The moment he comes into view, her face brightens, her posture steadying just a little. Seeing him reassures her in a way I can’t explain.
Or maybe I don’t want to because of the jealousy that flares at the same time.
She isn’t wrong about his reaction to her obviously weakened state. The pleased light that gleams in his eyes at the sight of her dims as he gets closer, his expression clouding over with concern. He sits down across from her gingerly as if he’s afraid even moving near her might cause her pain.
He doesn’t comment on it directly, but the first words out of his mouth are, “I’ve been thinking over all the healing spells I’ve witnessed, everything I’ve heard or seen about curses… and ways that maybe I could get more information out of Orion when I go back. As soon as—”
Talia holds up her hand with a gentle smile that I’d swear could melt the hardest heart. “I know. It’s okay. It is what it is. I’d rather talk about something happier. Have you been enjoying the books you brought?”
The corner of Madoc’s mouth quirks up at a bittersweet angle. In that moment, there isn’t one part of me that can deny the devotion with which he’s gazing at her.
It’s a pity he isn’t especially skilled in the healing arts. I have no doubt he’d stretch himself to the limits of his magic if he believed he could cure Talia on his own. He obviously has plenty of that Murk magic at his disposal, given his skill with illusions. If only it could be channeled—
An idea sparks in my head so abruptly that for a second it blots out everything else. I blink, testing the edges of the inspiration, reining in my eagerness in case I spot some flaw. But the more I prod at it, the more excitement swells inside me.
I should have considered this earlier. But I didn’t—because I didn’t really trust Madoc enough to open my mind that much.
It still might not work. But it feels like a much more solid possibility than our trip to the springs or Madoc’s little cures.
And it doesn’t require me betraying my mate’s hard-won trust.
My mind keeps spinning, working through the details, as Talia and Madoc discuss his recent reads and then other favorite books, a few they’re both familiar with. It’s far too soon that my mate’s energy begins to flag. I notice the drooping of her shoulders, and Madoc glances at me in the same instant.
He turns back to Talia, giving her the respect of addressing her rather than calling on me to make the decision. “You look like you could use some more rest. As much as I enjoy getting a break from the cabin, I’ll feel better knowing you’re keeping your strength up as much as you can.”
Talia sighs, but she accepts his point with a dip of her head—which tells me she’s faltering even more than she’s letting show. The guards converge around Madoc to escort him away, and Sylas comes striding over from the castle of Hearth-by-the-Heart to meet us.
My brother gives me a quizzical glance, and I shoot him a smile that promises more explanation later. “I thought the mite could use a little fresh air and social stimulation,” I say out loud.
Sylas hums to himself and gathers Talia up. I brush a kiss to her knuckles before heading after the guards.
I catch up with them at the edge of the woods. “Hold on a moment,” I say, and they stop immediately. A cadre-chosen’s words are worth that much.
Madoc’s quizzical glance is much more suspicious than Sylas’s was, but given what I intended to be saying to him when I first imagined this conversation, I suppose I can’t blame him.
The smile I offer him I mean just as much as the one I gave my lord. “Our last collaboration didn’t end up going so well, but maybe that’s because there were too many conflicting factors in the mix,” I say. “I have an idea for another way we could work together that might be just what Talia needs to set her free from your king’s curse.”
