Abarrane’s nostrils flare with adrenaline the moment she makes her grim decision. “Then she must die.” The declaration is followed by wide-eyed panic and Abarrane’s glare shifting from me to Gesine. “Why can’t I move?” She grits her teeth, her head jerking as if trying to propel her body with it. “What have you done, witch?”
Gesine doesn’t so much as flinch at the commander’s shrieks.
“When you release me, I will tear the flesh from your bones—”
“She is doing what I ordered her to do.” Zander’s commanding voice ricochets off the leather walls. “I decided to tell you the truth, but do not think me naive enough to believe you would accept it peacefully.”
Abarrane’s breathing is ragged, her rage a palpable tension churning around the tent.
“You will sit and you will listen, and when I am finished, you will realize that killing Romeria would be a graver mistake than keeping her alive.”
It sounds like he’s already weighed those two options.
Elisaf’s hand has settled on his sword pommel, as if worried that whatever force Gesine is using to bind Abarrane might lose its grip.
I sneak a glance through the tiny slit in the flaps. So far, the legionaries remain where they are.
“They would not dare,” Zander says, as if reading my mind. “Let me know when you are ready to listen to reason, Commander.”
Uncomfortable silence drags in the commander’s tent as Gesine toils away with her magic and the rest of us wait for Abarrane to stop seething.
Finally, she huffs out a breath. “Have you forgotten that the last time Malachi used a key caster in this way, the only door he opened was to the Nulling?”
“I’m not opening any doors for anyone.” I shake my head in emphasis.
But Zander doesn’t look at me. “As of right now, Romeria would have no idea how to. She has no skill with wielding her affinities, either elven or caster.”
“Is that so?” Abarrane’s eyebrow arches, her sodden braids and clothes saying otherwise.
“I told you that was an accident,” I mumble.
She studies me. “What good is a key caster who cannot wield her affinities? Why keep her alive?”
“Because she will be able to in time,” Zander answers. “Gesine will train her.”
The warrior sneers at the woman kneeling before her. “And what is the witch’s role in all this? Why would she want the princess resurrected in the first place?”
“The high priestess is guided by prophecy. She believes the seers have seen the end of the blood curse and peace between our people, and it requires this reincarnated version of Romeria to achieve it.”
“Fools and their prophecy,” Abarrane spits out, but the slight no longer holds the same noxious anger.
“If Gesine chooses to allow such folly to drive her purpose, that is her choice, as long as it does not hinder my path forward. What I do know is that we now have a key caster, and I intend to use her to regain my throne.”
I flinch at his choice of words. Of course, that’s why he’s changed his mind about going our separate ways. Now that the initial shock is over, he’s realized how stupid he would have to be to let Gesine and me take off.
I’ve become a weapon for his cause and nothing more.
A hollowness blooms inside my chest.
Gesine’s eyes open then. She stands and eases back from Abarrane. “The wound was deep, but the flesh knitted together nicely.”
“I wouldn’t know. I can’t move,” Abarrane mutters.
“Can you blame us?” Zander chuckles, and it sounds so out of place in this tension.
After a moment, she smirks. “No.”
“Is the Legion still with the rightful king of Islor, Commander?” Zander watches her closely.