Maybe, Zoey thought. Maybe. And a light slap on the hand isn’t so bad. A little embarrassing because the rest of the court will think the people chosen had done something wrong, but no one would be harmed.
No one would be harmed.
She wondered if Prince Sadi would agree with that. Then again, he would have been the one to make up this particular lesson.
FIFTY-EIGHT
Butler set an old door on top of two sawhorses, making a rough table for one of the hind legs of a pig that the butcher had delivered early that morning.
The first part of this lesson would be startling, more likely upsetting if Saetien understood what it meant. The second part, if she chose to participate in the second part, would be brutal.
He almost hoped she didn’t have enough courage to choose the second part of the lesson.
He already knew her well enough to know her choice, and then there would be no going back—for either of them.
When Kieran dropped her off at the gate and eyed the rough table and the pig’s leg, Butler said, “Go away, Lord Kieran. I’ll request the return of the pony cart when we’re ready, and I’ll escort Saetien back to your house.”
“Butler.” From the Warlord of Maghre, the word was both question and warning.
“Go,” he said again as Saetien climbed down from the cart.
He didn’t say anything else until Kieran was far enough down the road that Butler was sure there wouldn’t be anyone to interfere.
“What’s that?” Saetien gestured toward the table. “Besides a big piece of meat?”
“A leg for tonight’s lesson,” Butler replied as he created a couple of balls of witchlight and set them above each end of the table.
“We’re cooking a . . .” She suddenly went pale.
“It’s pork. I bought it from the butcher this morning.”
“What are we doing with it?”
“You are observing the collision of power and flesh.”
“I don’t understand.”
“You will. Stand there and watch.” He created a Green shield around the table, then looked at her. He knew why she reacted that way to a leg. He didn’t need to touch her mind to supply a name and a place to go with that reaction. Dannie. In Briarwood. “Are you ready?”
Saetien nodded.
He unleashed his Green power on the meat. It exploded into tiny chunks caught in a bloody, bone-gritty mist. For several heartbeats there was nothing to see, until the chunks began to slide off his shield and the mist began to settle.
Saetien stared at the mess, then stared at him.
“Imagine getting hit with a backlash of power that exploded your body just like that. Imagine how it must have felt in the moments before the connection between your Self and your body was severed. Would you have had the courage to face that?”
“Why would I want to?” Saetien said.
“You’ve always thought you were competing with Jaenelle Angelline. She faced it.”
“I . . .” Saetien hugged herself.
“I can use a kind of illusion,” Butler said as he called in the other hind leg and used Craft to position it on the table. “Through a bit of Craft connecting you to the meat, you can feel what it would be like to have your leg explode. You’ll come to no physical harm.” He waited a beat, then added, “Whether or not you do this is your choice.”
He watched the push-pull of conflicting wants so clearly displayed on her face. She wanted to step away from this, from the certainty of pain. And she wanted to prove she could be as strong, as special, as Jaenelle Angelline. Even now, she didn’t understand that she had the freedom to choose another path—a freedom Jaenelle had never had.
Saetien lowered her arms and squared her shoulders. “I want to know. Show me.”
A Black Widow would have done it differently—could have done it differently—but this way was simple and would work. Butler called in a spool of spider silk, wrapped one end of the thread around the pig’s leg near the hock, then unwound more of the spider silk until he wrapped the other end around Saetien’s leg just above her ankle.
“Stand still,” he said, breaking off the thread and vanishing the spool.
She nodded, her eyes on the pig’s leg.
A Green shield around the pig’s leg with enough room to allow for the explosion without breaking the shield.
“Ready?” he asked.
Another nod.
The punch of Green power. This time, Butler watched Saetien at the moment the pig’s leg exploded just like the first one had.
She stayed upright for a heartbeat, maybe two, her eyes wide, her mouth open in an attempt to scream. Then she collapsed.
Butler caught her as she went down. He snapped the thread connecting her with the pig’s leg as he went down with her, holding her against his chest.
“You’re all right, darling.” He rocked her while she clutched her leg as if she needed to hold it together. “You’re all right. The pain is real but your leg is intact. Breathe, Saetien. You need to breathe.”
A gasping breath. Then another. And then the wailing scream—a sign that the pain was starting to fade.
Butler rubbed her leg briskly to help restore circulation. Not that it had been lacking, but the pins-and-needles sensation would be there and brisk rubbing helped.
“Let’s get you inside.” He picked her up and carried her into the cottage. She’d been silent after that one wailing scream, and that was a worry.
He settled her in a chair, tucked a quilt around her, and poured a generous amount of brandy into a glass. He wrapped her hands around the glass and said, “Healing tonic. Drink it down. It will help.”
“It smells like brandy.” Little girl voice. Hesitant to contradict an adult but certain of her facts.
“Tomorrow it will be brandy and you will be too young to drink it. Tonight it’s a healing tonic.”
“O-okay.” She took a sip, made a face, then continued sipping until she finished.
Butler took the glass and set it aside before sitting on the hassock in front of the chair. He waited, knowing she had to come to this in her own time. That was the only way she would listen and really understand what he said.
“She felt that,” Saetien finally said. “Her leg exploded and felt like that for real?”
“More than her leg,” he replied quietly. “Her whole body.” He gave her a moment to think about that.
“But . . . she survived.”
“There was one chance to cleanse the Realms of Dorothea’s and Hekatah’s taint. There would never be another witch strong enough to do that if Jaenelle failed. So she needed all her power—and it took her three days to descend to her full strength. Marian and Daemonar had been taken captive and brought to Hayll. Lucivar had gone after them and was captured. Saetan went after them, intending to be captured. He hadn’t known what Jaenelle was planning to do. He’d thought she was stalling because she didn’t want the war they all knew was coming. He knew if he was captured, Jaenelle would go after Dorothea because he was the father of her heart and she always protected him. He didn’t see in time that she was going after more than Dorothea.
“They’d sent her Saetan’s little finger as a warning to surrender and become an instrument for Dorothea’s rule of all the Realms. She needed those three days, so she asked Daemon to distract Dorothea and Hekatah. She asked—and he answered. But he knew what he’d have to do, and he knew the price he would pay, so he agreed to be Jaenelle’s diversion only if she agreed to marry him when he returned.”