Chained Soul by Eva Chase
24
Madoc
Idon’t like the look of the Refuge when I emerge from a passage into one of the stations. All of my fellow Murk are bustling around, carrying equipment or supplies, tussling with each other in mock skirmishes that are clearly for practice rather than play.
Normally a lot of them are relaxing at any given time. The increase in activity doesn’t seem like a good sign.
But maybe it should. Why should I mind if Orion is gearing up to launch his war in the next few days? Any hope of a peaceful resolution went out the window the moment the few fae of the Mists who’d agreed to collaborate with me turned on me the second something went wrong.
I was trying to save their mate, for fuck’s sake, but apparently they’d rather I left her sitting vulnerable to attack, blithely assuming there was no way the tide could shift against them.
I shouldn’t have cooperated with them in the first place. I should have learned my lesson from the disaster with Delta.
I just assumed that when it was solely to benefit Talia, they at least trusted me not to want to harm her. How the hell was I supposed to know that a squadron of Murk would be hanging around just in case we showed up? Do they think I somehow passed on a message in the few hours between working out the plan with Whitt and leaving?
Yes, they probably do. Maybe I emphasized my skills with illusion too much. And really, I might have been able to send a message like that if I considered all the angles well enough. I had plenty of time to observe how the Seelie guards kept watch, what would catch their notice and what was likely to slip past it.
None of that excuses them thinking the worst of me based on nothing but the fact that their attackers happened to be the same kind of fae as me, though. Why not blame Sylas and his damned cadre for the sins of Seelie like Ambrose and Aerik then?
My bad mood follows me through the station. I pause in the tunnel by the stairs to my private room, but even though I’ve been traveling a long time since I fled the claws and fangs aimed at me yesterday, I don’t think I’ll be able to relax.
Orion has probably already gotten word of my arrival. His spies multiply by the day. He’ll want me to report immediately.
Several of the Murk I pass on my way to the throne room raise their hands or tip their heads to me in respectful acknowledgment. That’s reassuring. I’ve been watching the responses to my presence from the first sentry I sensed in the area around the entrance I used, and so far there haven’t been any signs that my own people see me as the enemy. I don’t think the fae of the Mists have gone as far as revealing my association with them to Orion… yet.
I’ve earned the respect my fellow Murk offered by standing by my king—and I nearly threw it away. My teeth grit again at the memory of the accusations Talia’s mates had hurled at me. How long will I have before they try to present me as a traitor to turn everyone against me? I haven’t figured out exactly how I’m going to explain away the proof they could offer. At least it’ll help that Orion isn’t inclined to believe any Seelie over his own proven knight.
Then I think of Talia, of how fragile she felt tucked against me while I tried to shield her from the pain inside her, and my stomach knots.
Is this what all our time together comes to? Will I be marching on her mates and the rest of the fae she considers kin in a matter of days?
Will she even be alive by then to see her hopes of peace shatter, with me at the front of the charge?
But what else am I supposed to do? Completely give up on bringing my people to the home they deserve? Talia can’t force the fae of the Mists to negotiate with us. They’ve shown how little they’re willing to give even me the benefit of the doubt. As much of a force to be reckoned with as she is, she can’t change the impossible.
I just wish that turning my back on the hope of some kind of treaty didn’t have to mean turning my back on her too.
Does she think I arranged the ambush? Will that be her last memory of me—the supposedly false comfort offered as I tried to destroy the people she loved most?
Just thinking about it makes my hands clench. I have to hold myself back from slamming a fist into the wall of the tunnel outside the throne room. Orion will definitely notice and ask about that fit of temper, even if he only hears about it second-hand.
I step through the broad opening and walk up to the dais. Orion is sitting in a typically casual pose on the arm of his throne, his tail flicking back and forth over to the seat, talking to a couple of my fellow knights. When he looks over at me, his yellow eyes narrow.
A prickle runs over my skin. Have the Seelie tipped him off after all? Or does he suspect something’s odd for other reasons?
But he beckons me over, dismissing the others with a careless wave and standing up straighter. His movements might be nonchalant, but there’s a soberness in his expression that I haven’t often seen. He doesn’t look exactly sane, but he does appear unusually focused in his fierceness.
“Here you are again, Madoc,” he says. “After all those long stints in the Mists before, I can’t keep you away from the Refuge these days.”
Is that why he’s irritated—he feels I’m shirking my duty a little? I raise my chin, putting on the appearance of confidence though not insolence. It’s a fine line between strength and rebellion in his eyes.
“I thought you’d want to hear as soon as there were any major developments,” I say. “From what I understand, Talia’s mates and several other fae brought her out to the fringelands to attempt some sort of cure for your curse there, and they were set on by an ambush of our people that had them running off with their tails between their legs. They’ve made a proclamation against the Murk, swearing to destroy any that they spot in ‘their’ lands. If they were getting help from a traitor among us before, that alliance has ended now.”
I didn’t even have to lie to say all that.
Orion hums and lets his tail loop around his wrist, tapping its tapered end with his long fingers. “They’re being pushed to the brink, then, in your estimation?”
I nod. “They wouldn’t have been desperate enough to bring her so close to our territory otherwise. Like I mentioned before, from what I’ve observed they’ve been trying all sorts of cures—with no success, naturally. Preventing them from going through with their most recent plan will only have unsettled them more.”
My king chuckles to himself and turns so the quavering orange light of the Heart flickers over his angular face. “It is good that you delivered your reports in time for us to arrange that ambush. I can thank you for giving me the information I needed.”
A chill wraps around my gut. What is he talking about? I couldn’t have reported that the fae of the Mists would be sending a party to the fringes there, because I didn’t know they would be the last time I spoke to him.
I manage to keep my voice even. “I’m afraid I don’t follow. I wasn’t aware of the ambush until after it happened.”
“Of course, of course. I decided on that method after you left the last time. But you gave your account of why the Seelie went to speak with Delta, as badly as that went for all involved, and made it clear they’d realized they had no hope of saving my pet on their own. Based on those facts, it was obvious that they’d try to make use of our powers again—and where better than along the fringes, as close to our Heart as they can get.” His eyes gleam with satisfaction.
I feel the exact opposite. Any enjoyment I might have gotten out of the thought of putting the fae of the Mists in their places curdles in my stomach.
They were right. Not the way they thought, not that I’d purposefully betrayed them—but I did screw them over all the same. I must have said too much, gone overboard in emphasizing one thing or another, showed too much of my hand—I didn’t mean to give Orion such an accurate sense of the approach the other fae were taking…
If I’d just shut my mouth a little sooner, skewed the details a little more or left more of them out, I might be sitting next to Talia right now, seeing her free of the curse we broke her out of together.
I force a smile, because Orion is watching me, intent as ever. “I’m glad that my insight gave you that advantage.”
His Heart doesn’t cringe away from my lie. If anything, the orange light flares briefly brighter. Staring into it after spending time so close to the Heart of the Mists, my skin recoils from its erratic energy.
Talia’s mates called it a false Heart, and they weren’t wrong. It’s nothing like the mass of living, harmonious power that fuels their lives.
It’s all we’ve got. It’s the best we can count on. And it’s slowly draining away the real thing, while killing Talia at the same time.
The sudden, wild urge comes over me to shove Orion right into the center of that orange mass, to scream out words to shatter that glowing monstrosity.
I could free her that way. I’d be some kind of hero, even if no one knew but me.
But I don’t actually know what words would shatter our Heart, and I doubt getting that close would even injure Orion. It’s his creation, after all. I’d only be showing my hand, and he’d cut me down, and there’d be no one left to speak for reason at all.
And could I really destroy it even if I knew? At the same time, I’d be obliterating the magic my people count on, leaving us utterly vulnerable to the fae of the Mists, who are more determined than ever to exterminate us all.
There are no good options here. The best I can do is protect the people who need it most.
A sense of resignation settles over me just as Orion clears his throat. “I’m sure you’ve noticed that we’re ramping up for our first real assault. There’s just one more thorn I want to dig into their sides before we make our move. That does mean I’m sending you off again.”
“Of course,” I say, crossing my arms over my chest. I can’t tell him that the fae of the Mists directly threatened me with death on my return to the world they consider theirs. What does it matter anyway? They’d have pounced without hesitation on any other rat who crossed their paths. Now the risks are no different for me than for anyone else.
As long as I don’t walk right up to one of them and tap them on the shoulder, I’ve seen enough to ensure they never know I’m there.
Orion simply smirks to himself, gazing into the glow of the Heart for long enough that I start to wonder if he’s forgotten the task he was about to give me. “What is it you need me to do?” I ask.
He grins wider, baring his jagged teeth. “I think it’s time the fae of the Mists find out exactly what their savior’s cure requires—and how far beyond their reach it is. Let them agonize over that for a day or two, and then we’ll cut them down at their most shaken. Perhaps they’ll even cut one or another of each other down in a vain attempt to meet the conditions.”
A quiver of excitement shoots through me, though I keep my expression carefully neutral. He’s going to lay out for me what would cure Talia’s curse? But if it’s something impossible, maybe it doesn’t even matter.
“I can see to it that the word is passed on,” I say. “Conjure an illusion of a Murk for them to catch, perhaps, who’ll gasp it out in his supposedly dying breath. What should I tell them?”
Orion brings his hands together, his fingers tapping against each other in an unsteady cadence that echoes the Heart’s dissonant pulsing. “As soon as possible, have them hear that the only way to heal the girl is for one who loves her to drench her with their life’s blood by their own hand. Voluntarily, of course.”
I blink, not sure I heard him right. Tendrils of tension begin to wind around my chest. “By their own hand,” I repeat. “They’d need to do it themselves.”
“Exactly.” Orion turns his grin on me. “Perfect, isn’t it? Her supposed mates will be falling all over themselves to make the sacrifice to save her, but even if they do care about her enough to qualify, their ridiculous Heart won’t let them go through with it. It should cause plenty of chaos as they try, though.”
It is perfect, in a horrifically sickening way. I swallow hard, suddenly feeling miles distant from this room and the man in front of me. My voice comes out, still steady, but I hear it as if from far away. “Is that really the cure?”
Orion cackles. “Why not? Every curse requires one. The trick is to place it out of reach. I was very pleased with that particular brainstorm.” He motions toward the doorway. “Go on, then. We have blood to spill and heads to roll. I’ve waited long enough.”
He’swaited. As if this war is all about fulfilling his thirst for blood and chaos.
But then, to him it is, isn’t it? Talia saw that within just a few days in his company. I’ve known it deep down all along, even if I drowned out the observation, telling myself it didn’t matter as long as the rest of the Murk get what we’re owed in the end.
Is this really what I owe them, though? A lifetime under a vicious king turned even more brutal in his victory? Do I doubt that he’ll aim his sadistic desires at the rest of us even more once he no longer has plans of war to occupy him?
I dip my head and stride out of the room toward the nearest entrance. My pulse thumps heavy through my veins. The queasiness that came over me when Orion first announced the cure is spreading, deepening, with every step I take.
Isit so impossible?
Could I even get the chance to find out? If the fae around her get the slightest wind of my presence, they’ll be chopping my head off…
I have my orders and my loyalties and my conscience. In this moment, they’re all leading me down the same dank tunnel toward the outside world. I’ll follow them as far as I can, and hope that when I reach the point where they diverge, I know for sure where I stand.
And if I have a chance to save everyone who matters—then I’ll take it. I’ll take it without a second’s regret.
