A Darker Shade of Magic (Shades of Magic #1) - V.E Schwab Page 0,52

divergent paths. Perhaps you think our power bonds us. Allow me to correct your misapprehension. We may share an ability, you and I, but that does not make us equals.”

He flexed his fingers, and Kell had the sneaking suspicion that this was going to end badly. Holland had fought against the Danes. Holland had spilled blood and life and magic. Holland had nearly claimed the White throne as his own.

Kell must seem like a spoiled child to the other Antari.

But Kell still had the stone. It was bad magic, forbidden magic, but it was something. It called to him, and he tightened his grip, the jagged side digging into his palm. Its power pressed at his edges, wanting to be let in, and he resisted, keeping a wall between the talisman’s energy and his own. He didn’t need much. He only needed to summon something inanimate—something that would stop Holland without turning on them both.

A cage, he thought. And then commanded. A cage.

The stone hummed in his hand, and black smoke began to pour between his fingers, and—

But Holland didn’t wait.

A gust of wind ripped through the air and slammed Kell forcefully into the door of a shop behind him. The stone tumbled from his grip, the wisps of black smoke dissolving back into nothing as the talisman hit the street. Before Kell could lunge for it, the metal nails of another door shuddered free and sang through the air, driving into his coat and pinning him to the wood. Most of the nails found fabric, but one of them found flesh, and Kell gasped in pain as the spike drove through his arm and into the door behind him.

“Hesitation is the death of advantage,” mused Holland as Kell fought in vain against the metal pinnings. He willed them to move, but Holland willed them to stay, and Holland’s will proved stronger.

“What are you doing here?” asked Kell through gritted teeth.

Holland sighed. “I thought it would be obvious,” he said, stepping toward the stone. “I’m cleaning up a mess.”

As Holland made his way toward the talisman, Kell fought to focus on the metal pinning him. The nails began to tremble as his will pushed against the other Antari’s. They slid free an inch—Kell clenched his jaw as the one in his arm shifted—Holland’s attention wavering as he knelt to fetch the stone from the ground.

“Don’t,” warned Kell.

But Holland ignored him. He took up the talisman and straightened, weighing it in his palm. His will and attention were both centered on the stone now, and this time when Kell focused, the nails holding him shuddered and slid free. They drew themselves out of the wall—and out of his coat and his flesh—and clattered to the ground just as Holland held the stone up to the nearest lamplight.

“Drop it,” ordered Kell, clutching his wounded arm.

Holland didn’t.

Instead, he cocked his head and considered the small black stone. “Have you figured out yet how it works?” And then, as Kell lunged forward, Holland’s thin fingers folded over it. Such a small gesture, slow, casual, but the moment his fist closed, black smoke poured between his fingers and swept around Kell. It happened so fast. One moment he was surging forward, and the next his legs froze mid-step. When he looked down, he saw shadows swirling around his boots.

“Stay,” commanded Holland as the smoke turned to steel, heavy black chains that grew straight out of the street and clanged as they locked around Kell’s ankles, bolting him in place. When he reached for them, they burned his hands, and he pulled back, hissing in pain.

“Conviction is key,” observed Holland, running his thumb over the stone’s surface. “You believe that magic is an equal. A companion. A friend. But it is not. The stone is proof. You are either magic’s master, or its slave.”

“Put it down,” said Kell. “No good will come of it.”

“You’re right,” said Holland, still clutching the stone. “But I have my orders.”

More smoke poured forth from the talisman, and Kell braced himself, but the magic didn’t settle, didn’t take shape. It swirled and curled around them, as if Holland hadn’t yet decided what to do with it. Kell summoned a gust of air, hoping to dispel it, but the wind passed straight through, billowing Holland’s cloak but leaving the dark magic untouched.

“Strange,” said Holland as much to himself as to Kell. “How one small rock can do so much.” His fingers tightened around the stone then, and the smoke coiled around Kell.