Dark Dealings (19 page)

Heyerdar smirked. “We’re
good.
”

“Ignore them,” Malan growled. “
He’s
elemental. All meat. No brain.”

The captain backed into a large tapestry, his blade weaving between the men advancing on him. Ava’s heart was in her throat. He was going to sacrifice himself for her, for the emperor. He was the only one able to take out the thieves with his endless flow of power. Panic was a sweat on her skin. She couldn’t leave him. These weren’t normal thieves.

For an endless moment, time stopped and Heyerdar’s golden gaze held her. A slow, wry smile pulled at his beautiful mouth. “Go.”

The air shifted, jerking forward, filled with hunger, want, power, and it raised her own thief. They
couldn’t
have him.

“Go!”

“Yes, run.” Malan grinned at her. “Fear makes you taste sweeter.”

The men surged forward and Heyerdar charged to meet them. His boot met a groin, his blade a cutting silver blur. The hot flash of magic singed the air, its sharp crack bursting over the grunt and groans.

Ava grinned. Heyerdar would take them. It was fucking easy...

Malan’s fist. It was a slow show before her eyes as his knuckles connected with Heyerdar’s temple. The captain staggered, his eyes glazed, and that moment of disorientation cost him.

Ava cried out as Heyerdar went down under the fingers and teeth of the thieves.

Chapter Sixteen

Ava ran. She didn’t look back. She couldn’t. She bit through her lip, hating the taste of her own blood. A reminder of what she was. A fucking monster. Just like
them.

The sounds... Tears wet her cheeks. Tearing flesh, low grunts and a sharp keening that cut to her bone. Pain. Heyerdar’s pain. How much could an elemental take? She didn’t know. And she didn’t want to find out. She would stop Reist.

Her gut twisted. Soured emotion mixed with the bite of pain deep into her soul. She kicked the doors, finding them unlocked, the guards who had raced through them gone. The room was thick with shadow, the afternoon light hitting the curve of the surrounding balconies. No emperor. No Right Hand. Was it over? Had Reist broken the wards that kept the powerful men who protected the imperial family from taking control for themselves?

Was Heyerdar dying for nothing?

That put power into her legs and she moved through the darkness, straining to hear something...anything. And there. Through another set of closed and heavy doors. Swearing, the scuff of boots over stone floors, the distinctive spark of magic. And she knew that sound and scent.
Reist.

The doors opened and Ava slipped through the narrow gap into a large bedroom. Shadows thickened the walls, the large bulk of a canopied bed. Two shapes moved on the far side, the splash of magic lighting Reist’s face as he struggled with a smaller man.

Heyerdar’s order rang through her head, pushing out the pain that burned her. She scrambled across the wide bed, dropping her sword and launching herself at the two men.

She smashed into them, all arms and legs, her skull connecting with the emperor’s, her shoulder with Reist’s jaw. Both men cried out, the emperor dropped to his knees and Reist grabbed her around her waist, staggering back with her.

“You stop this now!” She elbowed the mage in the ribs, her heel kicking back against his shin. Her own pain laced with Heyerdar’s, making her breath short, her heart panicked. “Break the Words, you bastard.”

“Ava—”

“Now. They have him. He’s...” She couldn’t describe the agony whose shadow seared her. She wrenched herself free of Reist. Finding her feet. Letting her fury ride her. She’d given this man ten years. Worshipped him. She was an idiot. “I’ll rip the magic from you. Make you a fucking husk—”

“Stupid thief.”

She knew that voice, had heard it wrap around a deprecating smile. Her attention snapped to the man she’d thought was the emperor, and the shadows moved around a familiar small shape. “Sentos Clay.”

The man’s thin lips pulled back in a mockery of a smile and he inclined his head. “Thank you for breaking his hold on me.” Reist surged forward, but Clay held up his left fist, opened it, and a tiny chamber shone there. The magic twisted and seared over him, forming a shield. The mage froze, his hands spread against empty air. “Try it now, Reist.” His command was a bitter growl. “You have no idea how powerful I am.”

“Break the Words on your thieves.” Ava put her hand on Reist’s arm and the man flinched. She drew him back. A chill ran over the pain in her flesh. Maybe Reist could’ve taken Clay... She’d fucked up. “It’s over, Clay.”

“The Left Hand is practically dead. The Right Hand is neutered. A bunch of shit-scared guards have the emperor. I think everything has fallen for me rather nicely.” Clay smiled and Ava wanted to eat his face. “The throne is mine.”

“You think you’re going to be emperor?” She laughed and Clay frowned at her. Beside her Reist loosed his power, she could feel it bristling over her skin, the thief in her rising. She wanted to draw it in, ease the fierce pain in lancing through her. She didn’t. Reist could break him. Could save Heyerdar.
She
could taunt.
“You?”

Clay’s eyes narrowed. “And you believe that
he—
this half-mage—can defeat me?” He shook his head. “I can turn high magic. It’s not hard. With it I made you believe I was a bluewood addict. You didn’t catch the scent of magic, did you? Mages want it to appear as if it’s a skill. It isn’t.”

They’d missed something obvious. The candles in the Civil Hall. “You practiced on the mage-light in Palban’s office.”

“My grandfather was denied the throne. I’m simply taking my birthright.”

“But your magic couldn’t hold your thieves. Everyone they killed pointed to you.”

Clay snorted. “And where did it get them? Did you find me? Did you even realize it was me? No. You, Thief Kalle, noticed nothing except the Left Hand’s dick.”

Before she could sneer at his words, another chamber flashed in his right fist and magic exploded. Reist screamed. His body flew back. The stink of singed flesh burned the air. And everything,
everything
went quiet.

Ava couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move. Her body was her own. No pain. No pain whatsoever. A roar shook the air. It came from her, her thief tearing up from her dark heart. Heyerdar was gone. The other half of herself was gone. Clay had killed him.

She leapt. Her empty soul wide open, the thief in her eager for blood and flesh and bone. The shield protecting Clay fizzled away under the greed of her soul, the brief taste of an ancient mage burning against her tongue.

Ava grabbed his right arm, stringy muscle twisting under her grip. She yanked the magic from the chamber he held, another ancient mage’s essence feeding her. Her strength grew. She kicked out his legs and dropped him to the floor. Straddling his stomach, she pushed his hands above his head. Her mouth brushed his and she tasted his terror.

Chambers filled pockets all over Clay’s body. Some tainted, twisted by him. Filled with Words. Inedible. “I’m not stupid.”

Fear flashed through his eyes and she grinned. Felt the wild pull of it in her face. Already her thief hungered, and fuck, she was going to let it have its way. Any control she had was gone. She was the monster.

Ava consumed more of the bound magic trapped in the glass chambers, the remnants of old mages sharp on her tongue. “You won’t taste good, but I’m going to eat you anyway.”

“I still have my thieves—”

Ava bit through his lip, tasting hot blood and skin. “I don’t care.”

She didn’t. She wanted blood and bone in her mouth, fresh and ripped from the man who had killed Heyerdar. The thieves could try to pull her off, but Clay would be dead, the Words would be broken, and then she’d go down killing them too.

Clay opened his mouth. The fucking idiot was still trying to argue with her. With a snarl she ate his tongue. And in that terrifying moment, she was lost completely to the flesh-starved thief, shoved so far into its depths she couldn’t find the woman she was. His life surged into her, and the thief in her raged. It was right. It was justice. The fury and hunger of her grief drove her. Ate her whole. She wanted Clay’s heart. Wanted it pulsing as she devoured it. He had to die at her hand. The monster and her were one.

Blood and flesh and splinters of bone splashed across her face and hands, stained her clothes and skin. No restraint. No caring about the power she took being ripped from her. She couldn’t stop. He’d attacked Reist. He’d killed Heyerdar, killed her bond. That fact snapped her taut, her spine arched. Her howl rattled around the room.

“Ava!”

She snarled. Someone wanted her meat. It was hers. She’d fought and won the right to eat. She dragged the still-warm carcass further into the shadows. A growl rippled from her. “Find your own food.”

She frowned. The tall man, painted bright with magic, took a step towards her. She knew his taste. His flavor had been as sour as the half-eaten man whose blood stained her lips. His name pushed at her and some of her thief nature eased back. She blinked. “Zarand?”

“He needs you.”

“What?” Ava stared at him as he stepped aside. Beyond him, stretched out in the sunlit balcony was Heyerdar. The light blazed over his shredded body. So much blood... “He’s—”

“He
needs
you.”

“I...” She rose to her feet as if she were pulled up on strings. Heyerdar—somehow—was still alive. Magic curled over him, thin and dulled to a brittle yellow, but there. Her heart clenched and she stumbled forward. “How is he alive?”

“It’s hard to kill an elemental.” Zarand’s hand hovered at her back, not touching. “But they came too close. Still, Nahum is the Left Hand for a reason. The three are little more than dust.”

She caught movement from the corner of her eye, the thief in her surging at a threat. A hand clamped to her mouth to stop the snarl as she realized it was Ehren helping Reist to his feet. His tunic and undershirt were little more than cindered rags, but his skin was clear and smooth. The thief had directed his magic to heal his wounds. He frowned at her.

She looked away. She knew she was a sight, spattered with blood and torn skin. “I need to wash.”

“You have the blood of his enemy all over you.” Zarand’s voice was almost warm with approval. It made her skin itch. “He needs that.”

For a long second, Ava closed her eyes. Heyerdar didn’t need
her.
He needed what the monster in her had done to Clay. She resisted the urge to wipe at her mouth, to push away the foul taste of the dead man’s blood on her lips. She cursed. She should’ve read more of those books Dorien had so reluctantly given them. Instead, she’d fucked her time away.

“What do I do?” She was a plaything, a toy to Heyerdar, but he’d saved her. She had to return the favor.

“Touch him.”

Ava stared at Heyerdar’s brother, magic glistening around him, brightening the shadows. Behind him, Ehren helped Reist to the rumpled bed, where he flopped back. He had healed, but Clay’s attack had exhausted him, diminished his hoarded power.

“You have to leave. When he recovers—” Ava hated the way her voice wobbled over the words, “—he
will
kill you. Heyerdar doesn’t make idle threats.”

Zarand’s mouth quirked upwards and something about it, the darkness, the cynicism, reminded her of the man stretched out on the stone balcony under the healing warmth of the sun. “I know.” His long finger stroked across her cheek and the tip came away coated in blood. He licked it clean. “You did well, Ava Kalle. Be proud.” He stepped back. “The sun, the sprinkle of earth is healing him, but he needs what you have.”

The blood. Ava jerked a nod. She turned to the open door and stepped out into the warmth of the afternoon sun. The heat touched her skin and the scent of blood thickened around her. Heyerdar’s chest lifted, his mouth parting as he pulled in air. A reluctant smiled pulled at her mouth. There was her proof. His need for Clay’s blood.

Ava allowed herself to stare at him, to witness what was done. His plain uniform hung over him in tatters, the skin beneath whole but almost translucent, thin veins of darkness streaking over it. Not veins. Closed and healing scars. Blood streaked across his clothes and body. Warmed by the sun, she could taste the difference to it in the air. Heyerdar’s own sweet blood and the sourness of the three thieves who had tried to devour and husk him.

“Heyerdar.” She knelt down and took his heavy hand in hers, pushing Clay’s blood into his thick palm. Nervous fingers stroked over his chest, scared of undoing the healing work of the sun and his magic. His heart thudded against the light press of her palm, and it eased the wild panic of her own. “Zarand said you need this.” She drew her fingertips down across his hard stomach, drawing lines of blood, smearing it with the spatter already wetting his skin.

Heyerdar pulled in another deep breath, and a smile curved Ava’s mouth.

“Thought his name would get a reaction. He dragged you out here. Started you healing. Knew you needed this.” She pushed her fingers back up over his sternum, telling herself it was for him and that she wasn’t enjoying the heat of his skin, the hard muscle, the eddies of his magic across her knuckles. She was lying to herself. “You could be nice. Try to only kill him a
little
bit.”

“He’s dead. When I can stand.”

The rough growl forced her heart into her throat, and only wrapping her darkness around her stopped Ava from throwing herself on him. She welcomed the coldness. “You may have to run to catch him.”

He opened one eye. “Did you enjoy yourself?”

“He had a bad diet.” She pressed her tongue to her upper lip, tasting him there. “Needed more vegetables. Some fruit. Better wine.”

Heyerdar snorted. “I didn’t think...” His words trailed away and his other eye opened. He frowned. “Who did you kill, little thief?”

He didn’t know. She blinked. He thought she was matted with Reist’s blood. “Sentos Clay.”

Confusion clouded his eyes. “Clay?”

“I have my thief.” Zarand stood in the doorway, his hand on the pommel of his sword.

His words left Heyerdar with his lips parted and Ava pushed down the irritation, the disappointment that they’d been interrupted. Her time with Heyerdar was ending.
Had
ended.

Blood and skin stained the hilt of Zarand’s sword. He’d waded in to defend Heyerdar from the thieves attacking him. She could forgive him a little. “I won’t pass this way again. There’s no need.”

“What was your need?”

A wry smile broke across her mouth. Heyerdar had come back from the dead just as irritable as before. She sat back on her heels, away from him, but her fingertips stroked the back of his hand. He still needed the healing power of his enemy’s blood. She knew she was lying to herself.

Zarand crouched down. “I did a deal, long ago.” His head tilted and he stared beyond them, through the columns of the balustrade to the lush courtyard garden. His voice was quiet, distant. “I gave the mages my brother for safekeeping and in return, I found them thieves.”

Ava’s heart turned over. His saving her hadn’t been an act of kindness. He
had
been hunting her. “Why do they want thieves?”

Zarand glanced back to the corner to the faint glimmer of the chambers she’d failed to consume. They littered Clay’s shredded coat. “Mages don’t die. A thief takes their final breaths, converts that stolen soul into a chamber.” He squinted up at the ceiling, his frown deepening, and his resemblance to his brother was stark. “Then they’re used to power the palace, the Institute, the empire.” He snorted. “That’s a mage’s true worth. Fuel.”