Page 33 of The Prince's Fealty

There was a crashing noise, and Var and his shield were driven farther underwater. He could feel the pressure against his shield, sharp and dangerous, and in the glow from his magic, he made out large, deadly-looking spikes. Orienting himself now, Var climbed to his feet and looked in the direction that he assumed was “up.” A large metal gridprotruding with spikes had pushed his shield down. In fact, it seemed designed specifically to do this, to keep him underwater and put dangerous pressure on his shield.

(Or to crush and impale unshielded people underwater. He wasn’t sure which was worse, that this was regularly used for torture or had been designed specifically for him.)

Var pushed more magic into the shield and tried not to think about what was going to happen if it failed.

Because this couldn’t be taken as anything other than the attack that it was. Var should absolutely have known better after what happened with Yomil, but it had naively never occurred to him thatNostexcould have something to do with this.

But with this last piece of the puzzle, everything made a horrible, sickening sort of sense. The attack in Nexa had targeted Tor and Cala. Remove them, and there were two places the Fealty was likely to go if Var died: and Var had ensured that they were both delivered to Nostex. He swallowed back bile. Get rid of Ada, and Nostex likely had only one more person to get rid of before he acquired the Fealty of the entirety of the United Realms.

Would the other rulers be safe? Or was this just the beginning of what Nostex was trying to do?

A shudder jolted through him. If the man had schemed the deaths of both his daughter and his granddaughter, then there was absolutely nothing that Var would put past him.

Cursing himself for a fool for not at least considering this option, however outlandish it might have seemed a half hour ago, Var forced himself to push aside the fear that was hammering at his insides.

He prayed that both Ada and Var’s precious baby girl were still alive. Nostex had obviously been waiting to act, and Var now assumed that it had been Ada’s arrival that the guard had been announcing. Get rid of Ada and Cala, then get rid of Var, and Nostex would drive the Fealty exactly where he wanted it, into a blood relation that all but guaranteed it would go next to him.

Var closed his eyes and reached deep inside of himself, not thinking about distance or difficulty. He thought instead of his brother, who’d been bright and curious and inventive. Who’d wanted to know if magic really cared about walls. (“Does magic need to see? Isn’t that ridiculous?”) When it turned out that magic did not, in fact, need to see, he’d thought it was hilarious to raise a shield over Var when they weren’t even withinsight of one another—because apparently it never got old when Var then walked into the magical barrier and had to either fight his way out or yell for his twin.

Var had figured out how to do it in retaliation, and there’d been a few weeks where there’d been an inordinate amount of cursing, laughing, and shield-forming throughout the entire castle. There was part of Var that was always connected to Tor and vice versa. (He swallowed thickly. Therehadbeen.) He could feel the other man if he looked deep inside himself, and he suddenly wasn’t sure why he hadn’t done that every day, why he hadn’t gloried in that beautiful connection.

But Var was connected to Ferna by their bond, to the rest of his family by Fealty and familial connection. And that meant that while he had never tried to do it before, he knew that he had to be equally capable of shielding the rest of his family even when he couldn’t see them.

He thought of Cala, of Ferna, of Ada, so precious to him, and definitely not deserving of some power-hungry man’s scheming trap.

Goddess, help me protect them.

He found those points of magic that felt like his family and clung to them. He envisioned his shields forming around the three of them, wherever they were, whatever they were doing. He hoped they wouldn’t be too startled. He hoped that Ferna was as close to the baby as she’d stuck for more than a week. And he prayed over and over again that Ada was still alive.

He strengthened each shield in his mind’s eye, determined that nothing would get to them… even as he tried to push aside the knowledge that this was a terrible situation to be in. Multiple shields on multiple people that he couldn’t see, and his own shield subject to the pressure of the water and what he assumed was soon going to be a bombardment.

Because Var was a fool, and multiple quavering shapes were looming above him through the distorting layers of magic and water.

Could he form an avatar to fight them as well as maintain these shields? Var cursed himself for not keeping up his training more assiduously once he became king. Oh, he still used his magic, of course. He was able to shield and protect himself. But he spent more time these days lighting crystal lamps and complaining about Tor than acknowledging the use of all the play they’d once done together. When was the last timeVarhad trained with any of the guards?

He gritted his teeth, glaring up at the wavering shapes who couldn’t possibly make out his expression, but he was glaring anyway.

The first blow fell against his shield, and then another and another. Var cursed. No shield was infallible, and he could do nothing but strengthen it and remind himself that he was stronger than anyone else in this room. He was also in the worst position of all of them, but he couldn’t let that stop him.

If he could bring them all down, he still wasn’t sure how he’d get out from under the contraption that was holding his shield underwater. (Wouldn’t that be an ironic way to die?) But he could only face one problem at a time. If he brought down his attackers, that would considerably lighten the load on his shield, and there was a chance that he could use his magic to push the spikes out of the way. (Or would more force like that just drive them through the shield?)

He drew a deep breath, dug deeper, and manifested his avatar above him, knowing it would be filled with his own resolution: kill everyone who was opposing him.

The bombardment faltered for a moment, and Var had just a moment to think maybe he really could do this—and then he screamed.

It felt like something had reached deep inside him and was shredding his insides, ripping something fundamental away with brutal disregard for the damage it was leaving in its wake. Reeling from the pain, Var grasped harder at his shields, trying to rebalance something that suddenly felt dangerously off-kilter, like the magic he’d always been able to rely upon was… different, somehow. Diminished.

Oh, goddess, had he lost one of them, lost Ferna or Cala or Ada? He couldn’t bear that, he couldn’t. But… it didn’t feel like that?

Trying to filter past the agony screaming through him, he frantically tried to assess his magic. His avatar was gone, but that was fine. The shields were most important. There was Var’s—obviously, or he’d have drowned, but it was fine for him to be counting it when it felt like he’d received a mortal wound. One for Var, keeping him alive because that kept everyone else alive. One for Ada. (Would the magic have formed if she were dead? This was something he and Tor had never tested, but he was going to choose to believe that no, it would only form around his alive and well sister.) And one for Ferna and Cala. They had to be together, because it felt like one shield… and he wasn’t going to consider any other reason why there wouldn’t be two.

Var just needed to hold these three shields with every bit of magic in him.

And that was when the truth washed over him of what the gaping wound inside him was.

Nostex had renounced his Fealty to Var, and he’d taken the entire realm of Filon with him.

What would that do to Var’s overall magic and health? Would it be enough to defeat him? He was clinging to these shields despite the pain, but had it weakened him too much?