Page 98 of Malice

His next words, laced with misery, hurt worse than any torture the king could have devised. “Oh, Alyce. You already have.”

—

In the upper floors of the tower, there is a small chamber where the ceiling is mostly intact. Its narrow window looks out over the black, restless sea, the moon like a silver coin hidden behind the clouds. I do what I can to make it habitable. The bed is in decent shape, although the bedclothes are moldy and reek of brine and dampness. But it’s better than the disease-riddled straw of the prison cells. Rubble and broken furniture litter the floor, including the remains of an ancient spinning wheel.

Though I know I need rest for my magic to regenerate, sleep refuses to come. Each new fear crashes against my skull like the breaking waves below. My ears stay tuned for the tinny clang of the alarm bells. For the rumble of hooves on the ground, searching for the king’s escaped prisoner. But Briar is quiet.

Once dawn begins to gild the whitecaps, the promised storm of the last night having done little more than grumble as it passed over Briar, I give up the bed and focus my energy on fixing the spinning wheel. It’s a lost cause. A large chunk of the flywheel is missing. There’s no belt. The footman is warped. And the maidens are crooked. But the impossible task gives my hands an outlet. By midmorning, I have the pieces mostly in the right places. I give the wheel a good spin, finding a strange sort of comfort in the way the spokes blur together. In the creaky, clacking sound it makes. Almost hypnotizing.

“Have you given any more thought to what I said?”

Kal’s voice from the shadows pulls me back into the present.

I still the wheel. “Have you?”

His silence is answer enough. There will be no convincing him to stay—no more than I can be convinced to leave.

Letting out a sigh, I knead the shooting tension at the crook of my shoulder. I have no idea when Laurel will arrive with the king’s item. When she does, things will move very quickly. Kal needs to get away while he can.

“It’s time to free you, then.”

One of his shadows slithers away from me, as if it knows what I’m going to do. “You do not have to try now. You are tired.”

I push past him and down the stairs, inhaling deep breaths of the salty air and trying to center my focus. There’s another storm coming. I can see the charcoal line on the horizon, heavy-bellied clouds trudging their way inland. A twinge starts behind my eyes, the pressure building.

“I’m well enough for this.” Even I hear the fatigue in my voice. But I made Kal a promise. And my Vila magic has only grown in the past months. “We don’t have time to wait.”

Kal watches me with his arms crossed, the shadows wending and billowing around him like the beating wings of one of Leythana’s dragons. As if they remember what happened last time and are daring me to try again. I cling to what little confidence I can gather and send my magic out, feeling for the protections of Kal’s prison. The cord of my power connects in half a heartbeat, bumping against the stone buttress that encases the enchantment.

This time, I do not start swinging blindly as I did before. Brute force only alerts the binding magic to an attack. Instead, I skim the edges of the protections, feeling for weaknesses.

There.

A chink. A thin spot. It’s all I need. I pull my power back before the shadows realize what I’m doing. Build my magic until it is a thick rope of darkness. And then, with every fiber of my soul, I let it loose.

Like a whip, my power cracks against the protections of the enchantment. The floor of the tower rattles. Kal groans and doubles over. The shadows hiss and scatter, leaving his body for the first time since I’ve known him. But his prison is not broken. It’s angry.

The walls of magic build themselves back up, healing the wounds caused by my attack. But I am faster. My own power zips around the protections, puncturing their surface. The shadows howl, shriveling up like scorched parchment. The magic of the enchantment pushes against mine, iron meeting iron. I grit my teeth, sweat beading along my collarbone and drenching my back.

“Keep going,” Kal gasps. He’s on all fours, sides heaving.

My muscles stretch and tremble. My very bones shudder with the growl of my power. The smell of woodsmoke and charred earth and flint floods my lungs. The pain is nearly too much. Spots bleed and dance across my vision. But I ignore the agony. Dig deeper than I ever have into the core of my power and funnel the remaining vestiges of my strength.

And then I find it.

The heart of Kal’s enchantment. It screams of otherness. My own metallic scent mingles with that of spring roses and dewed grass. The taste of loamy earth lands on my tongue. It’s familiar somehow, but I can’t place it. I push harder, my Vila power eclipsing the tiny pulse of Kal’s cage, wrapping and winding and clamping until the shadows around Kal go perfectly, unnaturally still. Like ink frozen in the air.

And then, with a last shove of my magic, there is an explosion of light. The black tower goes white, the same way it did the first time I tried to break these bindings. Only a thousand times brighter. Like the sun itself is captured within these walls. I’m thrown to my knees in the blinding glare, hands skidding on the stones. My power recedes, limping and bruised. But victorious.

The room comes back into focus.

Kal is standing near the gap. For the first time since I’ve known him, sunlight spills over his shoulders. Lends an aura around his form.

“You did it.” He turns his hands over, gazing in wonder.

I wobble to my feet. He rushes to me, scoops me up, and spins me around. “You did it!” Kisses rain across my forehead and down my cheeks. His body is unbelievably warm, the shadows taking the icy cold with them when they fled. And his skin is brighter. Pale pink touches his eyelids and lips. His once raven hair is an unfamiliar shade of rust.

He sets me down and all I can do is gape. “You’re—different.”