Wicked As You Wish (A Hundred Names for Magic #1) - Rin Chupeco Page 0,80
her vision a shadow lurked in wait, biding its time to strike.
“Choose,” the voices whispered again and again, quickening and overlapping among themselves until a multitude of choruses called down on her. “Choose.”
Tala took a step toward one of the gates—
—and awoke, panting, in her bed. It was still dark outside, snow thudding violently against the windows. The curtains blocked her view of the sky, but bright flashes of lightning streaked from behind the thin material. She’d never seen thundersnow in action before, and for a few minutes she remained rooted to the spot, unable to take her eyes away from the horrifying display of nature.
She wiped the sweat off her forehead, willing her breathing back to normal. She could still remember snatches of her dream, her mind recoiling from the memory, and wondered why it frightened her, though she could scarcely understand what it all meant.
She got out of bed and stepped into the hallway. The door next to hers was open, the room empty.
Tala groaned. Hunting for firebirds in large drafty castles was not something she relished, and hunting for best friends who also happened to be heirs to kingdoms under siege an even less welcome idea.
She slipped into the hallway, careful not to wake the others. She considered sounding the alarm, then decided to make sure if Alex was actually missing. The floorboards creaked slightly underneath her feet, but Tala made it to the first-floor landing without incident.
A faint light glowed from within the main hall.
Peering inside, she saw a boy standing before the fireplace, staring sternly down at it like the flames had secrets to unlock. The boy’s shirt and coat, damp and muddy from the hail, were spread out on the floor. Numerous scars lined his back and waist; some small and thin, others deep and jagged and puckered white, and it was all she could do not to gasp aloud at the sight. But it was his right arm that had suffered the most injuries, the fresh marks red and carved deeply over old scabs. He turned at some sound Tala didn’t hear, and she saw that it was Cole. His scythe, the one the count had called the Gravekeeper, lay nearby; its curved blade menacing, even in the gloom.
He wasn’t alone. Alex stood at the opposite end of the room, arms folded, wearing one of the count’s more expensive, slightly garish robes. The rich-looking material pooled down around his ankles, revealing that he was also barefoot despite the cold tiles.
Neither was aware of her presence. As Alex stepped forward, Cole’s voice stopped him in his tracks, brusque and low but strangely with none of the harshness he’d displayed back at Elsmore. “What do you want?”
“That’s not a very polite thing to say to your king,” Alex said, sounding amused. He gestured at the scythe with its twisted hilt. “After all, I did do you a favor.”
Cole said nothing, and Alex took several more steps forward. “I met your grandfather once, when I was very young; he terrified me, though I never knew why back then. He wasn’t imposing like Andre Gallagher, and he didn’t cover himself with war medals and armor like the Valencias. Looking back, I think it was because my father was always careful around him, like he was a little bit afraid despite himself too.”
“My grandfather is loyal to the crown,” Cole said, sounding like he didn’t mean it at all.
“I know. And that’s why I agreed when you asked to join this group. It’s why I asked the Cheshire to send for you without the rest of them knowing.”
“Why?”
Alex tilted his head. “What do you mean?”
“All you needed was a command, and I would have obeyed. You didn’t need favors.”
“You know what happened at Reykjavik, right?”
The other boy froze, the wariness apparent in his eyes.
“Stand down, Nottingham. I’m not going to dangle that over your head. I only mention it because you were a witness to everything that happened. Not only did you choose to keep your silence, you helped cover it up. That kind of loyalty, I respect. And until I can reclaim Avalon, I am the king of nothing, and my words hold no power or authority.” A faint sneer crossed Alex’s face, though it seemed directed at himself more than at anyone else. “I’m not asking as the heir of Avalon. I’m asking you as someone who understands exactly the kind of situation I’m in…a situation I’m sure you know all too well.”