Cursed (8 page)

“Fine.” I guided us into a secluded spot in between tents. Here, we'd be out of Hestia's line of vision. “I spoke with that Necromancer.”

“And?”

“You were right. She's an agent of the Midnight Cloister, and they
are
killing Sisters there. She could get me in, but as a Commoner. They're definitely kidnapping girls and they want to take me tonight.” I laced my fingers behind my neck. “We need a plan and quickly.”

“Let's talk back at my camp. That place is well warded.” He angled his huge frame to block my view of the market. “Look over my right shoulder. Be careful not to be seen.”

I moved onto my tiptoes and peeped past Rowan. A huge man with a bald head, round belly, and tanned skin pushed through the crowd. He was wearing the black robes of an Apprentice Necromancer.

“The woman, Hestia, said she was calling her brother.” I stepped out of view. “That's him, I'll bet. He's coming for me now.”

“Her type doesn't take chances. She gets paid for every Novice that she brings in through the door.” His gaze turned intense once more. “Are you sure you want to enter the Midnight Cloister this way?”

“Absolutely.”
Maybe.

A muscle ticked along his jaw. “No need to decide right now. As long as you stay in this oasis, they'll find you.”

I hugged my elbows.
They'd find me and then…

Rowan leaned in closer. “Elea, look at me.”

I forced my gaze to meet his. His eyes burned with an intensity that I'd never seen before. “This doesn't have to be your fate. You have a choice.”

Images flashed through my mind. Tristan standing in my dreams. His skin burning down to the bone. The screams from his death bed. Those terrible words.

You're next.

“There was never any choice for me. I must kill Viktor. There may never be another chance like this one.”

“You don't know that.”

“Yes, I do. My curse runs out on Sunday, Rowan.”

Rowan's features softened. “I'm so sorry.”

“Not as sorry as I am.”

“Let's discuss this more back at the campsite. They'll have a hot meal ready for us by now.”

I let out a ragged breath. “I'd like that.”

Rowan scanned the marketplace. “That Necromancer man has left.” He stepped away and motioned for me to follow. “The other Casters are excited to spend time with you, by the way. They haven't met many independent Necromancers who aren't—” He bobbed his head, searching for words.

“Dead?”

He chuckled. “That's it.”

“Your mood has improved.”

“Was I in a foul mood?” He raised his brows. “Me?”

“Oh, yes.”

“I suppose I was worried.”

“You're over six feet tall and large as a barn. Plus, you can cast spells that affect me, so you're strong in magick as well. I can't imagine what you'd have to worry about.”

“I wasn't worried for myself, Elea.”

The impact of his words seeped in. He was worried about me. The realization made my chest warm in an unusual way.

What? A Grand Mistress getting all warm and emotional?
I was out of the marketplace now. There was no longer any need to pretend that I was not a Necromancer. And emotions only led to trouble.

I straightened my shoulders. If I didn't keep to my training, I could end up suffering forever. Rowan may be able to help my mission, but I had to be careful around him. If my feelings for him made me stray from my learning, I might end up worse than dead.

Chapter Five

Rowan and I closed in on the Caster camp just as the first stars appeared in the sky. Already, the air was starting to cool. His team now sat around a small fire, roasting meat on skewers. Bits of their traditional armor—full helms and shields—lay about them. Laurel, the one who'd helped me before, rushed up to meet us. She was smiling so hard, I thought her face might split.

“How was the market?” she asked.

Laurel was also standing awfully close again. I took a half step backwards. “It went well, thank you.”

Rowan stepped between us, making a nice barrier. “We can discuss the market later. Elea needs to eat.”

My brows lifted. I wasn't used to people telling me when to eat. Or rather, I was used to the telling part, but not to actually listening. I was about to say that, but Rowan started carefully scanning each bit of meat over the fire, searching out the best bites for me. This wasn't like Mother Superior ordering me about in our never-ending lessons. Rowan was treating me as his revered guest. I worked hard to ignore how nice his attention felt.

Rowan finally plucked a stick from the fire and handed it over. “How's this?”

A mouth-watering smell wafted through the air. My stomach rumbled. “Thank you.” Taking the skewer from Rowan's hand, I sat down beside him and took a bite. I'd never tasted anything so tangy and delicious. I wasn't sure I could look at another bowl of nasty marrow pudding.

A tent flap opened and another man stepped into the firelight. He wore Caster leathers, but he had the lean frame, shorter height, and darker coloring of a Necromancer. He stilled when saw me. The fire cast dark shadows on the elegant lines of his face.

“Why's she here?” His words were a bit slurred. Clearly, this was Jakob, the man who'd been in the ale tents. He was stinking drunk.
And he called himself a Necromancer? What of his control?

“She's my guest.” Rowan's no-nonsense tone said that was the end of the discussion.

Jakob plunked down by the fire. “Is this the same one that Laurel dressed up?”

My eyes narrowed.
Dressed up?
I'm not a doll, thank you very much.

“Quiet, Jakob,” said Laurel.

“So,
it is
the same one. How many Necromancers do you need to talk to before you believe me? They're all useless.”

I was rapidly starting to dislike Jakob. “I'm not an ‘it'.”

He ignored me, which made my blood heat up even faster. “Well, Rowan?” asked Jakob.

“Elea is an independent Necromancer who cast a transport spell from the Eastern steppe.”

The other four exchanged looks of disbelief.

“Impossible,” said Laurel.

“You're the only mage powerful enough to do that,” added Orion.

“And she's a woman,” said Flint.

“You think women mages are weaker?” I asked. Everyone nodded except for Rowan. I shook my head. I'd read that Casters didn't have many women mages, but I had no idea it was like this.

Jakob turned to Rowan. “So, what do you want with this one?”

“
This one
is right beside to you,” I said. “And I'll discuss my plans with Rowan, and Rowan alone.”

Jakob narrowed his bloodshot eyes. “I'm Rowan's right-hand man.”

I glared right back at him. “Clearly, the team needs improving.”

“And that will be you, eh?” Jakob looked me over from head to toe. Twice. His mouth wound into a wicked smile. Right. One of the grain merchants I traded with loved this tactic. Leer at the girl and get her flustered. That wouldn't work on me.

“You're quite pretty, you know that?” asked Jakob. The Caster ladies groaned and rolled their eyes. “In fact, you're the first pretty mage we've met who isn't the Tsar's pawn. You're what, twenty or so seasons old?”

Rowan's voice lowered. “Leave her be.”

“Maybe she don't want to
be
alone.” Jakob leaned in closer. “You got yourself a man?”

I stared at the flames and kept my features level. I wouldn't acknowledge such a question. It broke about ten different Necromancer customs even to ask it.

“I can see the answer for myself, you know.” Jakob pointed to my ring finger. “You
do
have a man. And since he's not here, I'm thinking he left you high and dry.” Jakob frowned. “What a shame.”

I shot him a cold look. “Why don't you sober up?” My words were meant to be tough, but my voice wavered with pain.
Damn
. Never show a bully your weak spot. I might as well have offered a raw side of beef to a wolf.

Jakob grinned. “Why don't
you
answer my question about that man of yours?”

“I have nothing to say to you.” My voice was calm that time, but the damage was already done.

“Knew it!” Jakob pointed directly at my nose. “You're holding back on us.” He rose to loom over me. “I heard how you were snooping around before. Asking questions about Genesis Rex.”

Snooping? I merely noticed they had helms and asked Rowan an honest question.
Still, I wasn't going to play this game, either. He was baiting me to fight about what I'd said before, not what he was doing now. “I won't justify myself to you.”

“You're really in league with the Tsar, aren't you? Say it!”

I rose so we stood toe to toe. All Petra's warnings about emotion vanished. I raised my right fist to show off my betrothal ring. “The man who gave me this is dead. Viktor cursed both him and me. Now, he suffers in flame and unless I kill Viktor, then I'll die, too. Does that satisfy your curiosity?” I turned to Rowan. “Him or me. One of us leaves.”

“What?” Jakob spread out his arms. “What did I do?”

“What you always do,” mumbled River.

“That's quite enough,” said Rowan. “Everyone, take Jakob for a walk. Elea and I have things to discuss.”

Jakob groaned. “But, Rowan—”

Rowan rose to his full height and yanked Jakob up by his collar. “Walk it off. I mean it. This is my last warning.”

Jakob's head wobbled as he tried to meet Rowan's gaze. “But you need me.”

“Not enough for this.” Rowan tossed Jakob to the other Casters, who bolstered him enough to step away into the night.

Once they were gone, I hugged my elbows for warmth. All of a sudden, I couldn't remember when it had gotten so cold. Rowan wrapped a soft blanket around my shoulders and sat down beside me. “I'm sorry for how he acted. I should have stepped in earlier. Trouble is, we need a Necromancer for our plan to work. Believe it or not, he's the best one we've met so far, except for you.”

“It's fine.”
Except that it wasn't.

“I don't believe you.”

I stared off into the darkness in the direction where Jakob left.
What a mess of a man.

Still, I had bigger things to worry about than a drunk. “Believe it. You and I are here because we have the same goal. Kill the Tsar. That's it. I don't want Jakob to distract us.”

Rowan stared into the fire for a long time. His face turned still as stone. “True.”

“Good.” It didn't feel good, though, which was ridiculous. I still wanted to throttle Jakob with my bare hands. And I couldn't stop wondering why that Necromancer was here, anyway. Jakob didn't know what happened inside of a Cloister. I stared into the flames and thought of Petra's final words to me about the Tsar's experiments. “Hybrid magick. That's why Jakob's really here, isn't it?”

Rowan nodded. “Viktor's developed special weapons with hybrid magick.” Rowan pulled a dagger from the holster on his thigh. “Viktor made this. We found it back in my homeland. That dagger will cut through anything, even enchanted armor. We've nothing to stop it. The same goes for Viktor's magick. His incantations are immune to counter-spells.”

Rowan handed the dagger to me and I turned it over. The blade had the look of whittled bone. “This is a Necromancer weapon.”

“Look more closely.”

I angled the dagger into the firelight. A delicate pattern of snake scales covered the blade. The small hairs on my neck bristled. “This has a protective Caster skin. I've heard about weapons like this.”

From Petra.
Viktor used something like this to torture her.

I ran my fingertip along the flat of the blade. “Necromancer magick is singular. It should be impossible to layer Caster skin on top. How has Jakob has been trying to make this?”

“All we know is that he needs to pull the Caster magick into himself. But that hasn't happened yet.”

“What happened when he tried to push more Necromancer power into it?”

“Nothing.”

I frowned. This weapon was almost vibrating, it had so much magick coming off it. I wonder what would happen if I tried to add to the Necromancer energy myself? I pulled Necromancer magick into my body, focused it in my left hand, and then pushed the energy toward the blade. A flash of purple light sparked from the weapon. Magick slammed into me, hard as a fist. I fell backwards and dropped the dagger.

For a few long seconds, I could only stare at the play of stars overhead. The back of my skull ached. Before I knew what was happening, Rowan scooped me up and pressed me against his side. It must have been the shock of the magick, because his touch felt comforting.

“Are you all right?” he asked.

I leaned into the warmth of his shoulder. It seemed to have been made to cradle my cheek. I forced my breathing to slow. “I'm fine.”

“What happened?”

“The magick pushed back at me.”

“Like a rush?”

“No, it wasn't fluid at all. Normally, when I cast, the energy flows.”

“That's how it acts for me, too.” He moved his thumb in small arcs on my shoulder. I tried to convince myself that I hated it.

“When our spells crossed, I felt that same fluidity from your magick, as well.”

He nodded toward the dagger. “And that?”

“It was like being hit with a stone wall of power. Has that ever happened to you before?”

“No. I've never heard of anything like it before.” Rowan stared into the fire as if the solution were written in the flames. “Perhaps something changed with Jakob's experiments. Are you recovered enough? Do you mind if I try?”

“Go ahead.”

Rowan shifted so he no longer held me. My body chilled without his touch.