“No.” She touched his hand. “It hasn’t.”
“I doubt if our future together is longer than another minute or two. Surely my esteemed advisor’s man there has orders to drag you out of here. This is just a torturous game, letting us see one another and then separating us again.”
It was time to explain. Erini leaned forward. “This is no game of that foul grimalkin! That is what the sentries outside are supposed to think. My guard is under my influence.”
The king eyed her in open curiosity. “Influence?”
“Like-like mesmerism.”
“Mesmerism.” He did not seem completely convinced. Melicard indicated the chains that held him. “What about these? Mesmerism will not work on these, my princess.”
“I–I can deal with them.” She tried to reach for the cuff around his wrist, but he refused to let go of her hand for the moment. Trying to hide the worst of his face, he tilted his head to one side and gave her as honest a smile as he could manage.
“My princess… my queen.”
When their hands finally separated, Erini took hold of the cuff and examined it. It had a simple lock on it-not that she knew anything about picking locks-and was worn with age. The rust interested her the most. She had succeeded in lulling to sleep two men who had already been tired. Could it be possible to use the same concept to encourage the spread of rust across the cuff? Make it so brittle that a simple tap or two would shatter it?
As she thought about it, her fingers unconsciously rubbed the cuff. Tiny streaks appeared. Erini gasped. Melicard, who could not see as well from his angle, grunted his curiosity. The princess did not respond, watching in fascination as the entire cuff and even part of the chain turned dark in the space of a few seconds.
She took his arm by the wrist and, sobbing like a grief-stricken, frail princess, muttered audibly, “Oh, Melicard! What will happen to us?”
The king offered no resistance, leaving things in her care. As Erini moved in what appeared to simply be a desperate hug of her beloved, she brought the cuff down against the wall. The sound was buried by her words and the rattle of the chains.
The cuff shattered.
“Impo-” was all that escaped from Melicard before he succeeded in smothering his surprise. Erini immediately went to work on the leg cuffs and found, to her joy, the spell working perfectly both times. She did not, however, try to share her joy with Melicard. Erini feared to even look at his face now. Not because of his appearance, but because of what he must by now have come to realize; his bride-to-be was a sorceress.
“Erini-” Melicard whispered.
“I think that verifies it, then,” came the one voice she feared to hear.
Leaping to her feet, Erini shielded Melicard. Whatever aid her abilities would give her she would gladly accept. Anything, especially if it meant the end of Mal Quorin.
One of the guards unlocked the cell door and opened it. Quorin stepped through alone, confident in his power. Erini’s mouth twitched upward. Not this time. She understood her abilities better. The traitor would soon find out what power actually was.
Behind her, Melicard had risen to his feet. He would not have someone like Quorin stand above him. Erini drew strength from his act.
The counselor still advanced, slowly and silently. He appeared very much the cat he resembled. His habit of always seeming to show up where and when others least expected him added to that effect. Even the smile.
Perhaps I will turn you into the mangy rat-eater you really are, Master Quorin! The thought appealed to the princess greatly. She would even let him stay and keep the stables free of other pests.
“Did you realize only now that your bride was a sorceress, your most royal majesty? I suspected as much, though I wasn’t certain until she escaped from my men earlier.” Quorin looked at Erini. “Of course, my lady, I knew where you would be rushing to and took a quicker, more direct route. Now I have you again. All that remains are your stubborn countrymen and a few random guards who escaped my net. Talak will not even know of its change of rulers until the northern gates open and my master comes riding triumphantly through.”
“Bearing a silver banner?” Melicard asked grimly.
“Of course. This will be the true mark of his destiny, his right to be emperor of all races. The capture and destruction of the monster king. Your crusades will be at an end. A sign of strength will bring his brethren around-save the outcast lord of the Dagora Forest. With the united strength of the others, however, no opposition will stand in the Dragon Kings’ way. They will bring this land back to the glory it had before the Turning War.”
The king laughed, though it was evident that to do so hurt him further. “Did your master train you to say all of that? Look-look at him, Erini. Would you ever believe that he and these others were actually men and not drakes in disguise?”
The barb struck Quorin harder than he pretended it did. Erini, who had seen and felt his rage, watched him closely. She had just about formulated the sort of spell she felt appropriate for one such as him. Something decorative. A few seconds more and she would be ready.
Turning his attention to her, Mal Quorin said, “There was a chance you might have been useful in regard to Gordag-Ai-or even to my tastes in entertainment-but I don’t care for the thought of a sorceress alive and neither does my lord. Your betrothed will get the opportunity to see you die more or less painlessly before we prepare him for the coming of Talak’s new ruler.”
Erini unleashed her spell at Quorin. If it worked, he would envy the men who had died trying to recapture the princess.
Nothing.
No! Erini stood drained, horrified. Please! Not now! Her abilities had abandoned her again!
“Have you never wondered why I feared no tricks by that doddering old fool, Drayfitt?”
To one side, the ensorcelled guard suddenly moaned and shook his head. Her other spell had failed now. Erini stared at Quorin, who was reaching into his uniform for something that hung around his neck. It proved to be a medallion the diameter of a walnut.
Melicard groaned, though whether from pain or what he saw was debatable. “A Seeker medallion, Erini. One he received from me. It mutes a spellcaster’s abilities. Makes them… helpless.”
“Helpless. Yes.” The counselor snapped his fingers. Two of the sentries from the hallway joined him. One he ordered to assist the man who had just woken up. He looked at the second, then nodded toward Erini.
Beaten and worn, Melicard still tried to save Erini. He rushed past her and tried to tackle the oncoming soldier with his one good arm. Quorin’s servant, however, was a massive ox and he threw the one-armed king against the far wall. Melicard slipped to the floor, still conscious but stunned.
As the man turned toward Erini, she saw Quorin watching her from behind him, his cat’s smile wide across his face and a thin, jagged blade now waiting in one hand. Waiting for her.
XVII
While the night had brought chaos to Talak, it had brought something even more ominous to the Dagora Forest. Just beyond the protected grounds of the Bedlams’ domain, a tree curled and twisted, becoming a gnarled thing that soon cracked and died. From its withering roots, a black blot seemed to spread to the plant life around it, creating a dead, barren patch of earth several yards wide.
Within the boundaries of the Manor, a separate but hauntingly similar incident passed. This one would have been less noticeable, save its victim was one of the birds that nested in the trees. The fate the lone tree had suffered had been kinder. What was left of the bird was barely recognizable.