Eversworn: Daughters of Askara, Book 3 (17 page)

“I think we both know slavery will continue to thrive in Askara. How can it not when each of her neighbors embraces the old ways? Change was inevitable after Eliya, but drastic changes that cripple a kingdom aren’t the hallmark of a fit ruler. Nesvia will fall. The young queen has set herself up for abdication or an early grave. It’s only a matter of time before the slavers who were legal yesterday, illegal today, will became legitimized again tomorrow. So why halt my profits?”

I glared at him. “Other than the obvious moral dilemmas, you mean.”

“So says the thief,” Phineas retorted.

My cheeks heated in equal parts anger and embarrassment. The weight of Dillon’s hand on my shoulder made it worse. I’d done nothing to deserve his comfort but enjoyed it to my shame.

“Besides,” Phineas said, glancing from Dillon to me, “even if I suffered a change of heart, we all answer to a higher power.” He scoffed. “And no, I don’t mean some absentee goddess. I mean males of power who are used to getting what they want, and if they want females, then it’s my duty to supply them by any means.” He grinned. “And at reasonable cost.”

“You’re playing with fire by supplying Askaran nobles with slaves.” Dillon’s voice lowered. “I can tell you from experience that if their plush little purses are threatened, they’ll squeal like the pigs they are. Your name will be the first words they purge from their lips. Trust me on that.”

“That is true, which is why we no longer accept Askaran clients.” He folded his arms over his chest. “Other kingdoms are less close-minded than ours has become. Pity we have to travel so far to do business. Have you traveled with females and children? A more miserable trip you’ll never take.” He shuddered for effect. “But I figure it can’t hurt replacing one royal in our pockets with another. After all, queens suffer from jealousy and insecurity, both of which make placing our female
sthudai
arduous tasks. Kings,” he said in a conspiratorial tone, “even future kings, I find, are much easier to please. Beautiful females are welcome and handsome males are, well, they have several uses I’ve heard.” His gaze skimmed over Dillon. “Pleasing wives and freeing husbands to play with their mistresses seemed to be the most popular application. I’m sure you would know.”

Dillon’s fingers dug in deep, and I winced. Glancing up at him, I read his anticipation, but I was numb. Other kingdoms? Future kings? Phineas meant Sere, and he meant Roland. There was no other kingdom this side of the Gray Sea with an unwed heir, a son, poised to seize the throne.

Yes, I knew Roland had slaves. The bands around my wrists were proof of that. He preferred females, and his tastes ran toward the exotic. There I was the exception. I was no great beauty. It hadn’t mattered. My vows of chastity had been my allure, a temptation too great for him to resist.

Even knowing he held our daughter captive, knowing he had taken her from me for reasons he never saw fit to share with me, I was shocked by the implication Roland would purchase these slaves from these males. Why? What requirement could Evanti females meet that the rest of his collection lacked? They had always been rare. So rare he had none I knew of. The previous Askaran queen, Eliya, had guarded her few carefully. Perhaps their newly freed status made him think, and wisely so, they would go to ground and disappear, becoming more legendary than they were already. If that was his game, then his timing made sense, but Phineas had made it sound as if Roland were purchasing several—both male and female purebloods—which struck me as odd.

Pressure on my arm dragged me from my thoughts. It was time to make our excuses and try for a peaceful exit I doubted we’d achieve. “If you’ll excuse us, we have other matters to attend to.”

“Ah, yes, I’d almost forgotten the salt.” Phineas measured our reactions. “I don’t suppose you would bargain for it?” he asked Dillon. “Your freedom and hers exchanged for its location?”

Mild surprise made me shake my head. Salt truly did make the world go around. Sold on the black market, it would net a hefty return. Mercenary codes being what they were, Phineas would be a fool not to attempt bribing us for the salt’s location since I’d cost his welcome at the colony.

Yet he’d asked as an afterthought. Or was it a clever ploy to make us think it didn’t matter to him? He rolled onto the balls of his feet. Back and forth, back and forth, waiting, hoping we gave him a hint. Fortune awaited him if he found the stash before us. His program would benefit…

Oh Zaniah, no. Breeders who specialized in rare and exotic demons. Roland who specialized in rare and exotic horses. What better partnership than him teaching them his progesaline trick?

Roland’s lust for the purest and finest bloodlines made him a merciless equine breeder. Cast in that light, I wondered if his hobby expanded into distilling bloodlines for rare demons as well.

“Even if I knew, that’d be a no.” Dillon snorted. “I don’t trust you as far as I can throw you.”

“But she said—ah.” Phineas’s smile brightened as his gaze found mine. “Whatever we wanted to hear, whatever would protect you. So there is some fondness there after all. Good.” He lifted his hand. “That will make this easier. Galadriel, if you please.” A male advanced on Dillon, who shoved me behind him seconds before contact slammed us both into the wall with a loud crack.

While I crawled from the fray, head spinning, I saw the male raise a knife. Instead of a fatal wound, he was slashing at Dillon’s bad leg, the one he favored as he ducked against sharp blows.

Phineas raised his voice at me. “Give us the location, and he won’t get hurt.”

“That’s bullshit and she knows it,” Dillon panted. “Stay back and keep quiet, Isabeau.”

“She’s a healer.” Cunning gleamed in his eyes. “She can’t help but try and protect you.”

Dillon faltered then, torn between his fight and my safety.

“I’m fine.” I shouted over Phineas, “Don’t—”

Too late, I was too late. Dillon’s head snapped toward me, eyes filling with relief. Motion blurred behind him, and agony replaced his concern. He toppled to the ground with a pained roar. The male leapt, and they rolled. Blood coated Dillon’s face as he traded blows with his attacker, twisting his wrist until I heard a snap and the male howled, his blade clattering onto the ground.

“You can stop this, Isabeau.” Phineas watched me. “Tell me where you’ve hidden the salt.”

“I don’t know.” Sobs threatened to choke me. Blood, there was so much blood.

“Tell me.”

“
I don’t know
.”

Dillon’s enraged snarl vibrated through my ears. He was losing the fight while I scuttled for cover behind him like the coward I had become, that I had let Roland make me. No longer would I cower. I was reclaiming my birthright. Here, in this miserable cave, and now, in front of these males who would learn females were not the weaker sex. Any chance I had with Dillon was lost if I revealed myself, but his life was lost if I kept hiding beneath my glamour and weak excuses.

There was no middle ground, only this, only me and my choice, my sacrifice.

I had hidden from Roland. Let him use me, abandon me, let him keep the one good thing I’d made in my life. Now I hid from Dillon as he fought my battle for me.
No
. He would not pay for my mistakes. My daughter would not continue growing up without her mother. I would not bow before these males when I was their better. I was a priestess of Zaniah. I was one of her chosen, and I’d pay my tithe to my goddess with their blood, wash my hands with the ends of their lives.

Sacrifice
. My grimoire was not here to blame. Its hunger might linger in me, but this was my decision. The word and the intention was mine, and I embraced them both, embraced my magic.

“Don’t lie to me.” Phineas’s voice was fading fast beneath the chant rising on my lips.

The bloodied dagger used to slice through Dillon’s calf lay inches from my outstretched fingers. Touching the metal sent a shiver of pleasure through me. Magic is in the blood. Blood I could use. Dillon’s energy flowed through those smears, the pulse of his life fading as the blood dried, cooled, but I knew where to find more. My gaze lifted and I made eye contact with each of the males present. I counted them on my fingers. I read their eagerness and their vile intentions.

The abandoned blade was heavy in my grip. I tested its weight, and I watched.

Of the males nearest Dillon, one peeled his attacker aside and entered the fray energized. More blood splattered, Dillon’s, but I was ready. When he landed a punch that sent the male rearing back, I threw the dagger. My aim was poor, but my target was close and the wound inflicted was lethal. Gasping, the male clutched at his throat, jostling the knife and inflicting damage. Dillon bucked his hips, and the male toppled backwards. He lay there, panting, snarling, while I scrambled over him until I straddled the thick tangle made from his legs and my victim’s.

“Isabeau?” My name came on a breathless question from Dillon.

I didn’t dare turn. “Forgive me.”

He gripped my hips and steadied me. How I wished I could accept his comfort this time. Braced for his loathing, I let my glamour slither down my arms. I watched as pale skin grew cluttered with runes. Black ink crisscrossed my forearms, trailing past my slave bands to swirl down my fingertips. Even the pads of my fingers blackened and burned.

Dillon’s startled gasp hurt. He spat, “
Sereian
,” and his disgust sprayed my back.

Harnessing that pain, I knocked aside the dying man’s hands and gripped the hilt of the knife. Wrenching it from his throat, I unstopped his wound. More blood bubbled from his neck and wet his shirtfront. I tossed aside the blade and heard it clatter, a distant annoyance that broke the rhythm of my chant. Louder and louder my voice climbed as I used his blood to ink runes on his skin. The empty well where my power resided overflowed as Zaniah accepted my offering. Her pleasure was a purr in the back of my mind, the restoration of my powers a temporary boon.

Masculine fingers dug into my skin, but Dillon couldn’t sway me from my course. Phineas, who had stood back to await the victor, gaped. His gaze raked me head to toe as if he had trouble believing what he was seeing. My earlier worries were wasted. He’d had no clue I wasn’t Evanti.

Until now.

He swung his arm, and the others rushed forward. I lifted my arms as well, palms out, and pushed a pulse of energy that crackled the air. The smell of burnt hair and singed skin made my gorge rise. When those surrounding us fell in scorched heaps onto the ground, only Phineas and Adina, Dillon and I remained. My arms were heavy, so heavy they fell into my lap, and I whimpered when bending my fingers crackled cooked skin. Phineas stepped back, grabbing his last bit of leverage, Adina, and shoving her toward me. She tumbled, and I rose onto my knees to catch her. She hissed where my touch burned her. My sight rippled into a black haze for long seconds as the indescribable pain ebbed past sensation, numbing me until I fought back oblivion.

Once I had Adina settled beside me on the ground, I turned to Phineas.

He watched me, how my hands curled into fists in my lap, and a relieved smile tempted one side of his mouth. “I should have known Dillon wouldn’t settle for someone as conventional as another Evanti.” He eased right, near the mine’s exit. “Living on Earth changed the lot of them.”

Inhale. Exhale. Fight the darkness.
“Stay where you are.”

Dillon shifted beneath me, wanting to stand, not wanting to topple me.

“That seems unwise.” Another step and sunlight pooled near his toes. I couldn’t stop him.

Do something. Think. You can’t let him escape
. Or perhaps I could. Perhaps I should.

My locket was lost, but I’d kept a braid of hair tucked into my waistband, thinking I might use a spell for tracking my daughter’s location if Roland reneged on his promise. Without the salt, I had no hope of honoring our bargain. I needed that blasted horse. If I found the mare, then I had more hairs and more objects to power a tracking spell if Roland left me no alternative. If I didn’t, then the hair made no difference either way. Retrieving the braid was awkward because my fingers refused my orders to bend. When at last I held it in my hand, an eternity later, Phineas stood several more yards from me. A whispered incantation made the braid glimmer. “Phineas?”

He flinched, muscles tense. When he turned, slowly, his mouth was tight, eyes strained.

Perhaps he wasn’t unaffected after all.

I drank in his fear and tossed him the braid. “Something to remember me by.”

He caught it on reflex. His brow bunched. He knew he ought to drop it but couldn’t quite let go. Glancing around the violent remnants of our meeting, he said, “I somehow doubt I’ll forget.”

But he would. I’d made sure of it.

Shaking his head, Phineas tottered into the sunlight, gripping the braid, and began walking.

Adina brushed my shoulder. “What did you do to him?”

“I placed a memory enchantment on something of value to me.” I shifted from Dillon’s legs so he could sit upright, and dropped beside her. “He won’t remember what happened here, and he’s disoriented enough he ought to head home, wherever that is.” I twisted to avoid Dillon. “He won’t know why keeping that token on him is so important, but as long as the spell works, he’ll have it in his pocket or on his person. Since it’s tied to me, I can track him. We can find where his people are based, where they’re keeping their females, and we can put a stop to his program.”