Isabel nodded, mentally steeling herself. She had been resisting in every way she could, but Azugorath was becoming more and more powerful within her mind. It seemed that the exercises Enu was teaching her were designed primarily to help Azugorath learn how to overcome her will.
At first, her unwanted tutor had focused on teaching her the drain-life spell that Phane wanted her to learn. When that proved futile, he switched to teaching magical principles in an effort to help her comprehend the intricacies of the spell. After a while, it became obvious that she was failing deliberately, so he switched tactics yet again.
“Close your eyes,” Enu said. “Relax and clear your mind.”
Isabel had no sooner obeyed his seemingly harmless command than Azugorath thrust into her psyche with all her might, severing Isabel from her will and casting her adrift within her own consciousness. Always before, she’d been able to fight it, struggle against it, but this time she’d been caught completely off guard.
Her eyes opened, unbidden. She was within her body, could see and hear, feel and smell, but she had no control. Enu stood before her, holding his staff over her head, a faint darkness emanating from it.
She stood. It was a strange sensation, to feel her body moving without having any control over it.
“Where’s the girl?” she heard herself ask. Terror gripped her, filling her soul with unbridled panic. Somewhere, she heard laughter, unclean and maleficent.
“Running errands,” Enu said.
“You fool! How can I kill her if she isn’t here?”
Isabel struggled, her rage rising into fury. The laughter grew with it, mocking her, taking malign glee in her helplessness.
“I will send for her immediately,” Enu said.
Isabel let go of her emotions, calming herself and willing her mind quiet. The laughter turned nervous, then became taunting and insistent. Isabel ignored it. Instead, she thought of Alexander, seeing his face in her mind and focusing on her love for him.
Azugorath berated her, shrieking within her psyche, daring her to fight, baiting her with images of horror from her own worst nightmares … but Isabel ignored her, choosing to feel only love for her one true love.
Light started to shine in her mind again, the barrier that was sealing off her connection with the realm of light started to fray, allowing streamers of healing light into her soul. She reveled in it, holding on to her love for Alexander and ignoring the atrocities Azugorath was projecting into her mind.
And then, as suddenly as it had begun, the attack ended. The Wraith Queen retreated into the depths of her subconscious mind and the barrier blocking her link with the light slammed firmly into place again. Isabel slumped to her hands and knees, breathing hard, trying to understand what had just happened.
Enu returned. “The watch has been alerted. The girl will be brought as soon as she’s found.”
Isabel stood, scooping up a lamp in one fluid motion and hurled it at him. It shattered against his shield, spreading burning oil over it in an instant. He muttered a single word, then hit the floor with his staff and a sudden gust of wind spread away from him in all directions, extinguishing the fire in a whoosh.
“I see you’ve returned, Lady Reishi. No matter, we’ve made progress worth reporting to Prince Phane. I shall leave you to contemplate your fate.”
Once he’d left, Isabel sat down heavily, her mind racing, trying to find a way out of the trap that was rapidly closing around her. She replayed the experience in her mind and found that she’d been suddenly separated from her will. In that moment, no doubt caused by Enu’s spell, Azugorath had gained control.
But there was more. When Isabel fought against her with rage, her grip had only tightened. Yet, when she fought with love, the Wraith Queen had struggled to hold on, until the light began to shine through and then her grip had faltered completely. Isabel played the experience over and over in her mind, searching for some lesson she could use to fight the darkness and finding only one … love.
She returned to her bedchamber, locking Issa in the hall outside her door as usual, knowing full well that the lock, or the door for that matter, was meaningless to the wraithkin.
She put her forehead against the closed door and took several deep breaths to steady herself, then went to her bed and sat down, still shaking from the ordeal with Azugorath.
Slow, creeping despair started building in the back of her mind. When she thought of Wren … of killing Wren … she felt a kind of wild panic screaming from a place so deep inside her that she knew her spirit would break, knew her soul would be scarred beyond forgiveness. Others might try to forgive her, but she knew she would never, ever forgive herself.
That self-loathing would be all the Wraith Queen needed to use her at will.
Phane would win.
In that moment, everything came into clear focus-all of the soldiers fighting battles all across the Seven Isles, all of her friends and loved ones in harm’s way, the future hanging in the balance.
She’d lost perspective.
She’d come here for more than one reason. Killing Phane was why she’d wanted to come here, but that was really nothing more than a way of finding the good in a bad situation. She’d really come here because she was dangerous to those she loved, more so now than ever.
Wren had to leave.
Isabel had obligations, duties she’d taken upon herself willingly and even joyously, despite the burden they’d been. There were many threats arrayed against the Old Law, but only a few were within her power to fight. Lacy Fellenden carried a keystone that could never be allowed to fall into Phane’s hands. Isabel could do something about that.
Lacy had to leave, too, and that box with her.
Isabel sat down at her desk, summoning Slyder with a thought. She felt a pang of guilt as she wrapped the note around her hawk’s leg. Sending him off with an affectionate scratch under the chin, she returned to her room and stood before her dressing mirror.
She’d been working on the shapeshift spell every available moment since she’d arrived in the fortress city. Her last attempt had nearly succeeded. Today, it actually mattered. Rather than use anger, she opted to use love as her distraction emotion, more to see how it would affect Azugorath’s interference with her link to the light than for any other reason.
It took a long time to get into the right emotional state of mind, violent thoughts bubbled up to distract her, but she finally reached the right degree of emotional intensity needed to attempt the spell. However, once she’d fully visualized the desired effect, she’d lost her emotion.
It took an hour before she finally succeeded, transforming her appearance into that of Dierdra, her maidservant. She inspected the face staring back from the mirror and smiled; it was a perfect likeness. After several minutes, the spell broke and Isabel reverted back to her own appearance.
She opened her door a few inches. “Send for Dierdra. I need help drawing a bath.”
“It’s the middle of the afternoon,” Issa said.
Isabel just glared at him and closed the door. Dierdra arrived a few minutes later. Isabel followed her into the bathing chamber, quietly stepping up behind her, slipping her arm around Dierdra’s neck, under her chin, locking it in place with the other arm, then drawing her backwards to the ground and choking her until she fell unconscious.
She worked quickly, tying Dierdra’s hands and locking her in the bathing room before casting her shapeshift spell again. This time it worked much faster and the results were just as accurate. She checked her appearance in the mirror, smiling to herself.
“She says she doesn’t want a bath now, she’s going to take a nap,” Isabel said to Issa on her way out of the room.
He shrugged indifferently.
She made it out of her estate house and into a nearby alley before the spell ran its course and her appearance reverted to normal. Taking a moment to get her bearings, she set out toward the barracks buildings where Wren had stashed their gear. Isabel drew a few looks from soldiers and tradesmen while walking through the streets, but she ignored them, and they seemed entirely unwilling to confront her, which suited her just fine.