Chapter 4

CHAPTER FOUR

Zarya enjoyed her bath and found a robe on the back of the door to wrap herself in. It had heavy black brocade lined with soft lambswool. It smelled of Arkon’s burnt magic and a male aftershave, heavy on amber, so it was almost sweet like smoked caramel. She was warm and comfortable for the first time in weeks and wasn’t going to think too hard about wearing her enemy’s clothing.

Zarya grimaced at her reflection and fought the urge to do a light glamor on her face. She had lost weight in her weeks of running, and her hacked off hair needed a good pair of scissors. She didn’t hide it.

If she was going to get Arkon to trust her, she wanted to be honest to the bone. It hurt to be exposed to someone after keeping secrets for so long, but she couldn’t let the war continue. She took a deep breath and went to find him.

The sorcerer had dragged an armchair over, opposite the couch, and there was a platter of food on the small table between them. He looked up from his book, his eyes tracking her.

"I hope the bath has put you in a talkative mood," Arkon said as she took her seat. "I don’t let just anyone use my bathtub, you know?"

"I can tell. I’m a seventh child too," she admitted, needing somewhere to start. Arkon put his book down and cradled his wine.

"You haven’t come to me to swap childhood stories with me, though the seventh child thing does make a lot of sense now that you mention it," Arkon trailed off before shaking himself. "No, no distractions. You said you want to kill the emperor. I thought you were his right-hand woman."

Zarya filled up a plate of fruit and cheese and other treats that were before her. "Up until eight weeks ago I would have done just about anything he asked me."

"So, what changed?"

Zarya touched her bracelets again. "Everything."

"Those belong to someone important to you?" Arkon nodded at the bracelets. He missed nothing. She would have to be careful of that.

"Yes." Zarya ate, trying to settle the shaking feeling inside of her. "You know, I really expected you to to be some fat, old wizard. I don’t know if it’s disappointing that you’re not."

Arkon laughed softly. "Is that so? I’m a bit gray, but I’m sure that’s due to all the stress you’ve caused me."

"At least you carry it well," Zarya replied.

"What happened to your hair?"

"I cut it with a knife. It’s funny, but when I’m not dressed as the saint, I’m invisible."

Arkon raised a brow. "Literally or figuratively, because I’m still trying to figure out how you got out of the cell and found me."

"It comes down to the nature of my magic," Zarya replied, knowing he’d hate that answer. She swallowed her mouthful of food. "As for finding you, the wards you put up are good, but I can feel your magic. There’s nowhere I couldn’t find you."

"I don’t know if that sounds like a threat or a promise," he said.

"It’s more fun if it’s both." Zarya smiled. "Just know that you can’t hide from me."

Arkon actually laughed at that, which surprised her. She was starting to think it might have been better if he really were some fat, old wizard. Unfortunately, she probably would still have been drawn to him if he was. His magic was…irresistible.

Once she had enough food to satisfy her, Zarya poured wine and leaned back into the soft chair.

"I’m going to tell you a secret, Arkon. Something only a very small handful of people know," she began, needing to start before she talked herself out of it.

"That doesn’t sound wise," he replied, but he couldn’t hide the excitement in his eyes. A man couldn’t have created a spy network without the love of secrets, and Arkon had a big network.

"It’s not wise, but it’s necessary. I want you to trust me, as much as you can anyway, and you are too smart to manipulate me. I’m not going to waste both of our times by trying to lie to you or seduce you into doing what I want."

Arkon pulled a sad face. "That’s a shame. It could have been fun to see you try and seduce me."

"You wouldn’t survive anything more than trying sorcerer," Zarya teased.

"You might be surprised." Arkon raised a brow. "Seduction isn’t very saintly of you, is it?"

"You really thought I was a saint?"

"No, but I believed other people believed it. Why the lie?"

Zarya topped up their wine. "Because it was what Arkadi could sell to the people. I was born a seventh daughter to an ancient family of matrilineal magic users. My mother, who is a powerful seeress, saw that the only way to end the war would be if I went to work for the emperor. I presented myself to him and showed him what I could do. Being anti-magic was one of the foundations he built his rule on, but he needed someone to help counter magical attacks. I performed the prerequisite two public miracles and became a living saint."

Arkon rested back on the lounge, his brows drawing together. "If you were loyal to him because of a vision that had to be fulfilled, why did you leave him?"

Zarya cleared her throat, trying not to taste the rage and bile beginning to coat her tongue.

"I found out about the magic that was being done in my name," she said, hating the hitch in her voice.

"Ah, so you didn’t know about the other mages. That explains a lot," Arkon replied, surprisingly gentle.

"You knew it wasn’t me?"

"I know the feel of your magic, Zarya, like you know mine. The magic that has been used in attacks lately was rotten and cruel." Arkon rubbed his thumb over his bottom lip. "Do you know about the camps?"

Zarya’s breath came out in a ragged whoosh. "You know about them too? Am I the last person to know in the whole wretched world?"

Arkon’s expression softened, and she hated it. She didn’t need to be pitied by her enemy. "How did you find out?"

"As soon as I knew about the magic, I confronted Arkadi. He took me to one of the camps, eager to show me his ’great vision’," she said, her fingers toying with the pendant on one of her bracelets. "I was horrified. I knew he hated magic, but there is a certain amount of tolerance throughout the empire. There’re too many of us, magic wielders, for the rest of the empire not to tolerate us. The war, as I understood it, was about trade routes, not just his ideology. I wanted to help put a stop to the fighting, and I only made it worse. I was starting to waver in my purpose the past year, questioning if I was doing the right thing. I think it’s because of that, the emperor wanted some kind of back-up plan in case he decided to turn me into a martyr."

Arkon studied her carefully before admitting, "I have a mage in the basement who told me that the bone mages were created in case you needed to be stopped."

Zarya’s eyes narrowed. "What fucking mage?"

"Calls himself Vladek. He got foolishly chatty with a pirate friend of mine and spilled his dirty secrets," Arkon replied.

Zarya’s hands clenched. "Vlad is here? Why? What did he tell you?"

"Now, now, this is about you, not him. We can get to him later."

Zarya pinched the bridge of her nose, fighting the urge to throttle the answers out of him. She felt like she’d been such a fool to not notice what was happening in the palace around her.

"You went to the camp, and then what happened?" Arkon pressed.

"One of the guards was wearing this," Zarya said, showing him the bracelet. "It is a talisman that I made...for my sister Asa."

The weeks of grief started to crash down on her, and Zarya fought to keep it locked in the box that she had put it in.

"I recognized it immediately. There was no lie that they could tell me that I would believe. The bone mage had kept it because he knew it was magic. They killed my sister for the power in her bones and blood, and they have what’s left of her locked up somewhere. I have five sisters in hiding, Arkon, and Asa is definitely dead. I’m going to kill everyone who is responsible... I need..." Zarya couldn’t say the words, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. Her vision was tunnelling when a warm hand covered hers. Arkon had moved from his chair and was crouching beside her.

"I’ll help you," he promised.

The weight that had been pushing down against her shoulders suddenly eased. She didn’t need him to pity her, and he knew it.

"Thank you," she said and wiped the tears off her cheeks. "Six people die to stop the war, Arkon. I promise."

"And who are they?"

"The emperor, the general, the money man, and the three remaining bone mages," Zarya said. She realized she was holding his hand and carefully removed it. Arkon took the hint and stood up. He crossed his arms. "These five other people have names?"

She nodded. "Yes."

"But you aren’t going to tell me what they are?"

Zarya managed to smile at him. "If I give you all the answers, what’s to stop you from cutting me out of it?"

"You think I would kill the emperor without you? It would be ungentlemanly of me to do such a thing," he said, laying a dramatic hand on his chest.

Zarya laughed, her first full laugh in months. "You’re about as much of a gentleman as I am a saint, Grand Sorcerer. We do this together or not at all."

"Oh, all right then. We will need to convince Gio and the others of your plan. And you know, not to hang you." Arkon scratched at his beard thoughtfully. "Not that a cell could hold you long enough for us to hang you."

"You’d miss me too much if I was gone. I’m sure you will manage to convince them," Zarya said, lifting her wine glass back to her lips.

"Very sure of yourself, aren’t you?"

"I don’t need to be when I’m sure of you, sorcerer."

Arkon’s eyes narrowed a little, and she knew she had scored a point.

"Don’t pretend like the idea of working with me instead of against me isn’t going to be the most fun you’ve had in ages," he replied.

"I’m not pretending. It’s why I’m here after all. The real question is going to be whether or not you will be able to keep up with me in this endeavor," she challenged.

Small flames sparked in his eyes, sending a thrill of excitement through her. There was the sorcerer behind the man. Did others feel the power he kept locked up so tight? Would they fear him if they did? Of course, they would. They were scared of her after all.

"We have a deal, Wolf Mage." Arkon clinked his glass against hers. "And we will see who can keep up with whom."