Chained Soul by Eva Chase
7
Sylas
Ilean against the carriage’s hull, gazing down at my sleeping mate. She refused to go any farther from the holding cell than this, even though her exhaustion was obviously catching up with her. We arranged as comfortable a bed as we could nestled between two of the carriage’s benches, and she drifted off almost immediately.
The early dawn light that filters through the foliage overhead catches in her vibrant hair. I murmur a few words to create a sunshade so the rays won’t wake her as they brighten. Then I look at my lead warrior—and chief healer.
“You haven’t sensed any signs of illness in her?” I ask August. He didn’t show any indication that Madoc’s claims fit with his observations, but he might not have wanted to say anything in front of the company. He may not even have wanted to speak to Talia about it yet until we’ve discussed it ourselves, so as not to worry her unnecessarily.
My brother shakes his head with a smile much tighter than his usual. “Nothing—and I’ve checked her over for any reasons for concern every day since we discovered the pregnancy. Other than the child forming inside her, I haven’t picked up on anything about her physical presence that’s changed since before her kidnapping.”
“You don’t think the pregnancy could be related to the curse, do you?” The thought makes my gut sink.
August’s smile disappears completely. A frown creeps into its place as he studies Talia’s sleeping form. “We knew she was fertile when we were all with her after she escaped the Murk. The timing of Corwin first noticing the pregnancy and the energy she’s giving off fit that as the date of conception. I’ve specifically searched for any hint of Murk influence tied to the new life, and there’s none of that either. But I guess we can’t know absolutely for sure. They’ve hidden a lot from us.”
“Yes.” I stifle a frown of my own. “We’ll have to keep a close eye on her and the progress of the pregnancy. It might be best if you do a physical scan of her twice a day now so we can catch any new developments as early as possible.”
“Maybe Madoc is wrong,” August suggests. “Or maybe the trigger Orion told him about didn’t work. Talia’s foiled them in other ways before. The Heart of the Mists has supported her.”
“I’d like to believe that, but we can’t count on that being true. Our own curse doesn’t show itself except one night every month. The Unseelie’s strikes at random. It wouldn’t be all that unexpected for whatever the Murk king has placed in our mate to take some time showing itself.”
With that grim statement hanging over us, I turn toward the slope that’ll lead me back to Madoc’s holding cell. “I need to question the rat more. You stay here and watch over her, and I’ll send Astrid up to join you.” After everything Talia’s been through, I don’t feel comfortable leaving her without at least two trusted guards, even this deep in our territory and so close to our Heart. Corwin has gone off to fly around the nearby lands, watching for any hint that Madoc didn’t come alone.
August inclines his head in acceptance of my orders, and I stride on down the hill to the clearing where I left my other two cadre-chosen—and the Murk man who’s supposedly looking out for Talia’s best interests.
I wouldn’t trust him to guard her from his own kind, but it was easy to see how his demeanor changed in her presence—the difference in his expression and posture when he was focused on her compared to the rest of us. She’s won some sort of victory with him, as she’s won over so many other fae. But is it enough to overcome his obvious contempt for Seelie and Unseelie alike?
I’m interested to see how he’ll talk when he doesn’t have her presence to keep his more hostile impulses in check. Perhaps I’ll learn something he’d only let slip when it’s just us fae.
Nuldar’s words come back to me from the last time I visited the sage, when I asked him about how we could end the curse. He said the answer was on its way to us… and that we needed a “snare” to catch that answer. If it can capture a single heart, it will bring all you need to know back to you.
Could Talia be that snare—and Madoc the heart she’s captured? So far he hasn’t told us anything that would help us eliminate the curse, nothing we hadn’t already learned from Talia after her time in the hands of the Murk. But then, she might not have come back to us at all if she hadn’t made an ally of him.
We’ll have to wait and see how that plays out as well.
As I come up on the clearing where Celia’s guards are maintaining their solemn vigil, Whitt and Astrid both move to rejoin me. “How’s our mighty mate?” Whitt asks, the playful note in his voice unusually subdued.
“Getting her much needed rest,” I say, and nod to Astrid. “You should join August in watching over her. Alert me of anything at all worrying.”
“Of course, my lord,” the wiry woman says, and springs into her wolf form nearly as nimbly as if she were several centuries younger. She was the most faithful and capable of my guards, and she’s proven an excellent addition to my cadre. I should have thought of inviting her into it sooner.
Whitt walks with me back to the holding cell. He may have some questions to contribute to the interrogation too. Stopping closer than the guards are standing but still a few feet from the glowing walls, I peer at Madoc through the shifting barrier.
He isn’t as musclebound as my own frame or August’s, but he could just about match Whitt’s physical build. And both the fact that he made it so close to our inner domains and Talia’s reports have made it clear his magical talent is one to be reckoned with as well. He could be a formidable ally if he’s willing to remain one—or a formidable enemy if he’s not.
He gazes back at me, his expression wary. He’s dropped down into a crouch, leaning slightly forward with his forearms resting on his knees, but I can tell he’s ready to leap from that pose in an instant should he see an opening. He definitely isn’t happy about staying among us in captivity.
“I have more questions for you,” I say, crossing my arms over my chest.
“Of course you do.” He straightens up so we’re closer to the same level. I have a few inches on him, but no more than that. “What else is it you want to know, arch-lord?”
He says my title with a hint of a sneer, as if it’s more an insult than an honor. I grit my teeth automatically but keep my mind focused on the interrogation. I can’t let him distract me with his attempts to provoke my temper.
“This curse your king supposedly put on Talia—you said he mentioned having sent someone to trigger it just a couple of days ago. Did he give any indication of when the curse itself was laid?”
Madoc’s eyes flicker, and I suspect he’s debating whether he wants to tell me even that much. But after a moment, he draws in a breath. “I asked him a few questions as if out of curiosity. As far as I could tell from his answers, which aren’t always all that concrete, it was part of the initial spell he worked on her when she was a newborn.”
The thought of Talia as an infant brings up all my apprehension about her current state. “But he didn’t offer any details about what the curse on her would entail?”
“I told you that already,” Madoc says shortly. “All he said was that she’d suffer and waste away, and he expected to see you all panicking and distraught because there’d be nothing you could do to stop it. I couldn’t press all that hard without making him wonder why I was so concerned about the specifics. Believe me, if I’d been able to find out anything that would help you—help her—prepare better, I wouldn’t be keeping it to myself.”
I can’t say I’m convinced of that claim, but I let his answer stand. Whitt has obviously been thinking along similar lines, though. As I pause to consider my next question, he clears his throat. “Did he say anything at all that hinted at the curse involving her being with child?”
So many emotions dart across Madoc’s face, it’s almost impressive to behold. From the shadow that crosses his eyes and the twitch of his muscles that’s almost a flinch, the only thing I’m sure of is that the idea comes as a complete surprise—and he doesn’t like it at all. Which might be enough of an answer in itself.
“No,” he says, the hoarseness of his voice thickening a little. “I can’t think of anything he said that would suggest… Is she? With child?” There’s an oddly hesitant note in his voice, as if he isn’t sure he wants to know after all.
“I’m simply covering every eventuality,” Whitt says smoothly. “It seems a reasonable potential ploy.”
Madoc regards him suspiciously but says nothing.
“Why did you come to pass on this warning to Talia?” I ask, bringing his attention back to me. “You pointed out that you’ve put your life at risk doing so. What made it important enough to take that risk?”
His gaze turns into a glower. “I already risked my life once getting her away from Orion in the hopes of saving hers. Obviously there wouldn’t have been much point in that if I was just going to let her die anyway.”
“I think the question still stands,” Whitt says breezily, cocking his head. “Why help her at all?”
Madoc flexes his fingers, and for a second I think I catch a glint of claws emerging. But they vanish just as quickly. He scowls at both of us. “I wouldn’t think I’d need to tell either of you that she’s a pretty extraordinary woman. She managed to convince me that there might be some hope of this conflict ending in ways other than a bloody war. And regardless of that, no matter what you think of the Murk, I don’t happen to enjoy watching someone who doesn’t deserve it suffer.”
I have the feeling he doesn’t count us among those who don’t deserve to suffer. I focus on the other part of his answer. “Is that what you’d want—an end to this conflict that doesn’t include war? It was your people who started the war. It seems you’ve been waging it against us for decades without us even knowing.”
“We started it?” Madoc sputters in disbelief, but then he shakes his head. “It doesn’t matter. I don’t think it’d be good for my people if we have to resort to that kind of combat. Talia sees something worthwhile in the lot of you, so maybe there are a few of you it’d be better to have sticking around too.” He doesn’t bother to hide his skepticism.
My eyebrows rise just slightly. “You value my mate’s input quite a lot.”
I purposefully referred to Talia by her relationship to me to check his reaction. Madoc doesn’t show any additional animosity, but then, there’s plenty between us already. His lips curl back just slightly. “I hope you do too.”
I can’t see any point in continuing to badger him. Other than being a little more open in his dislike of us, he hasn’t given away anything useful, and the only things he’s been able to tell us overtly, we already knew. I’m no closer to being sure of what we should do with him.
“You know the way to your Refuge where your king has his false Heart,” I say carefully. “If we dealt with that—”
Madoc’s gaze sharpens into a glare. “I’m not leading you back there to carry out what I have to assume would be a slaughter. That wouldn’t do my people any good either. I came in the hopes of sparing Talia some pain, not to bring down heaps more on the Murk.”
I’d expected it was a long-shot anyway. “I can understand that.” Easing back, I dip my head to him—nothing like a bow, but a brief indication of respect. Regardless of how I feel about his people or him about mine, he’s sacrificed a lot on behalf of my mate. I can recognize that generosity.
“That’s enough for now,” I say. “I’ll leave you be.”
As I head toward the trees, there’s a rustle as Madoc steps forward. His voice drops. “Is she—is she all right? The curse really hasn’t affected her at all yet?”
I glance over my shoulder at him. The anguish that seeped into his tone and the consternation on his face, as if he hates asking me for reassurance but can’t help himself anyway, disarm my wariness in a way nothing else he’s said before has.
He does care about her, not just about the role she might play in getting the Murk to their goals.
I still don’t have much faith in anything else he’s said, but the realization brings down my hackles enough for me to answer honestly. “Nothing. As far as we can tell, she’s in perfectly normal health—and my healer has a lot of experience with all forms of bodily magic.”
“Good,” Madoc says, his shoulders sagging. “Thank you.”
Whitt and I walk several paces into the shelter of the woods before my brother catches my arm. He murmurs a quick spell to the air around us to muffle our conversation from distant ears. “What do you make of him?”
“I was going to ask you the same thing.” I rub my jaw. “He doesn’t like talking to us, but I didn’t get the impression he was holding back anything significant either.”
“Neither did I.” Whitt gazes back the way we came. “But what do we do with him now? We can’t ask Celia to release him and let him run free simply because he’s made friends with our mate.”
“No.” I pause. “But perhaps we could come to a more formal agreement with him after we’ve held him a little longer, had more chance to feel out his intentions. It might help to let Talia speak to him on our behalf. If we could count on him revealing more about the Murk’s preparations, that would be worth a lot.”
“It would.” Whitt lets out a restrained snarl and meets my eyes. “But for all we know, this whole tale of a curse could be a lie. Just how far are we willing to trust him, no matter what he says?”
