Obsidian Blade Page 4

  Emil didn’t take his gaze from the blade. “What’s that thing worth, anyway? I might be interested in buying it. Perhaps I can make you a better deal than Samara can.”

  “It has no price,” Magnus said. No price was high enough to take this treasure away from him again. Without it, he was truly lost. He ignored the man’s glare at his glib answer. “Now, where can I find Samara?”

  “My, my, such insistence.” Kalum chuckled. “Did your little adventure into thievery help you form a bit more of a backbone, boy?”

  “Yes, indeed it did.” Magnus picked up the blade and drove it into the wooden table right next to Kalum’s hand. He jumped up.

  “Where can I find Samara?” he asked again. “Answer me, or I promise I won’t miss next time.”

  Emil’s and Kalum’s eyes were wide, and the color had drained from their faces. “Very well,” Kalum said. “She’s in the building at the end of the street just before you come to the dead end—the tallest one in the city. Go to the third floor and knock on her door. You can’t miss it. She’s painted it red.”

  “See? That wasn’t so difficult, was it?” Magnus slipped the blade beneath his shirt and left the tavern.

  The way he had caused unmistakable fear in those two men gave Magnus a surge of confidence. No wonder his father was always so self-assured. Everyone regarded the king with fear.

  “Fear,” King Gaius had said more than once, “leads to obedience. And obedience is what gives a leader their power.”

  Magnus groaned with annoyance when he saw that Maddox had followed him around the corner.

  “Are you deaf?” he asked sharply. “I told you to go away, witch boy.”

  “I heard what you said in there,” Maddox said, his hands on his hips. “You just gave away my money for a shiny black piece of rock.”

  “My money,” Magnus retorted. “After all, I stole it.”

  “Money you stole from me.”

  “Livius.”

  “Me,” Maddox insisted. “I should get half the profit from that thing.”

  Magnus shook his head. “Trust me, you don’t want half of this treasure.”

  “I’ll be the judge of that.”

  Magnus decided to ignore him and follow Kalum’s instructions to find Samara, but after he’d taken several steps, he paused.

  “How can I not remember what he just told me?” he said under his breath.

  “What?”

  “Shut up, I’m thinking.” He wracked his mind. It had been explained clearly to him not a handful of moments ago, yet now it was completely gone.

  The witch—what had she said to him before she forced him to touch the statue?

  “When this all over, you won’t remember what has happened here.”

  That memory was as clear as the cloudless sky that stretched above this city.

  Magnus looked down at the bloody bandage wrapped around his right hand.

  The mark she’d given him. His faulty memories since he’d arrived here.

  They had to be connected.

  “What if I forget who I am and why I’m here?” He allowed a moment of panic to ripple through his chest and grab hold of his heart. “If I forget where to find Samara so easily, what’s next?”

  Maddox frowned. “That man told you she’s at the end of the street. The red door.” At Magnus’s quizzical look, he prompted, “Remember?”

  “Clearly not!” Magnus gritted his teeth. “You will take me there.”

  Maddox’s brows shot up. “Will I, now?”

  Magnus grabbed his arm. “Yes, you will. And if you do, I will promise to repay you every coin I stole.”

  “I don’t believe you.”

  The word began to bubble up in Magnus’s throat before he had a chance to think it through. “Please,” he said.

  Maddox blinked at him.

  “Please,” Magnus hissed, hating the word and hating that he needed to use it here and now. “I need your help. I don’t have much time before it’ll be too late.”

  “Too late for what?”

  A glance up at the sky showed that the sun had most certainly moved and time was passing far quicker than Magnus wanted it to.

  “If I don’t do this, I can’t go home,” he finally said.

  Maddox didn’t say anything for several moments. Instead he simply watched Magnus carefully. “To your kingdom of ice and snow.”

  All Magnus could do was nod shakily, biting his tongue so he wouldn’t start begging like one of his father’s wolfhounds seeking a treat from its master.

  Finally, Maddox shrugged. “Fine. Follow me.”

  Heaving a great sigh of relief, Magnus followed the boy down the street toward the tallest building on the block—six stories in height—and up a set of winding stairs that led to a red door on the third floor, which had a symbol carved into it.

  Maddox touched the symbol, inlaid with a golden material. “This is the symbol for air magic, isn’t it?” he asked.

  Magnus’s shoulders tensed. “You’re the witch boy, shouldn’t you know?”

  Maddox ignored that. “Just who is this Samara woman?”

  “That’s an excellent question. I suppose we’re about to find out.”

  Magnus took a deep breath and regarded the door, which did indeed bear the symbol for air magic upon it. On a statue of the Auranian goddess Cleiona he’d seen when the Damoras had paid a royal visit to the Auranian palace when he was just a boy, Magnus had noticed this symbol, along with the triangle for fire, emblazoned upon the palms of her hands, just as Valoria had water and earth on hers.

  “She’s beautiful, isn’t she?” the youngest daughter of the Auranian king, Princess Cleiona—named for the goddess herself—had said to him when she noticed Magnus admiring the statue.

  He’d glanced at the little girl, her golden hair falling loosely over her shoulders. Limerian girls all wore their hair up at formal occasions and he’d found himself fascinated by the young princess’s long golden locks.

  The word yes had been on the tip of his tongue, but he held it back.

  “I suppose,” he’d said instead. “If she didn’t have such a stupid name.”

  He’d managed to make the young princess’s cheeks flush. “I don’t like you,” she’d told him.

  “Good,” he’d replied before turning his back on her and going to look for other more worthy distractions.

  He shook his head, drawing himself out of the vivid memory. What an utterly irrelevant thing to think about now, he reprimanded himself.

  Magnus raised his fist to pound on the door, but it opened a moment before his hand made contact.

  A beautiful woman looked out at him. She had dark blond hair hanging over her shoulders in long, loose waves. The black coal around her eyes made the pale blue color more vivid, and a berry stain defined her full lips.

  She raised an eyebrow. “Who are you?”

  “I am . . .” He cleared his throat, forcing away any nervousness. “My name is Prin—uh, Magnus. Just Magnus.”

  “I’m Maddox Corso,” Maddox said, peering out from behind Magnus.

  “Well, Just-Magnus and Maddox Corso,” she said with a smile. “To what do I owe the honor of a visit from two such handsome young men today?”

  “Are you Samara Balto?” Magnus asked.

  She nodded. “I am indeed. Normally you would need an appointment, but I find myself currently free for unexpected visitors. For three gold coins each, I promise to take you into manhood in the most unforgettable manner you could ever imagine.”

  Magnus regarded her for a moment with confusion, then swept his gaze over her diaphanous rose-colored gown, which showed all of her womanly curves.

  “You’re a courtesan,” he managed to say.

  “I much prefer to think of myself as a businesswoman with very special and
sought-after skills.”

  Magnus shook his head, stunned. “I was certain you’d be a witch.”

  Her smile faded into a thin line. “Who sent you here?”

  “I don’t know her name. But she gave me this.” Magnus pulled the obsidian shard out of his shirt.

  Samara’s eyes widened at the sight of it.

  Then, without another word, she took hold of the fronts of Magnus’s and Maddox’s shirts and yanked them both across the threshold.

  Chapter 4

  Magnus scanned the courtesan’s surprisingly opulent home as she pulled him and Maddox inside. Even Lucia’s palace chambers, although large and comfortable, were not covered in artwork and gold artifacts like Samara Balto’s chambers were. Lucia had a seating area where she read her favorite books, but it was nothing like this one, done in silks and velvet.

  Everything here was pure luxury, much more befitting of someone who made their home in Auranos.

  But perhaps the goddess Valoria was not as strict with her subjects as had always been believed, based on the teachings and laws created during her reign.

  However, judging by the awed expression on Maddox’s face, Magnus would be willing to bet these chambers were an anomaly rather than a normal occurrence here.

  “Sit.” Samara nodded at a small, round ebony table that shone beneath a chandelier of lit candles.

  “I prefer to stand.” Magnus raised the obsidian blade. “You know what this is.”

  Her gaze fixed upon the object for a moment before she nodded tensely. “I do. And I know who sent you.”

  “That’s excellent to hear.” The strange relief of being face to face with someone who might understand his plight had put a lump his throat. “Perhaps you can fill me in on how all of this is possible.”

  “Why? So you can just forget it when you return?”

  He studied the courtesan with surprise, his grip tightening on the blade. “She said that—that I’d forget. But I won’t. How could I forget any of this?”

  Samara gave him a thin smile. “Sit down, young man.”

  Magnus despised being ordered about, but Maddox had already taken a seat at the table and watched him with a quizzical look.

  “Whatever questions you have about all of this,” Magnus told the boy, “I’m afraid I can’t answer them, since I’m every bit as confused as you are.”

  “Then I’ll not speak them aloud.”

  Magnus couldn’t make the same promise. He finally, grudgingly, took a seat at the table across from Maddox. Samara sat down next to him. “Who is the old woman who sent me to find you?” he asked her, unraveling the bandage to show her the wound on his palm. “She did this to me.”

  Samara eyed the marking. “All I will say is that she is very powerful and you should never try to cross her.”

  “How does she know you?”

  “Our paths have crossed.”

  “But . . . how is that possible? She’s old, but she couldn’t possibly be old enough to have been here, unless . . .” Magnus’s head began to ache as he tried to sort it out. “What kind of magic is this?”

  “The way you say it . . . you don’t believe in magic, do you?” she said.

  “I didn’t. Not until today, anyway. And it’s still nearly impossible for me to accept what has happened to me. True elementia is a legend more than anything. And witches . . . I don’t know.” The image of the witch screaming for mercy at her execution made him wince. “I’ve never seen proof of their power—not real, tangible proof. Only words, only accusations.” He exhaled shakily. “And the goddesses are . . . I’ve never considered them to be more than stories.”

  “Truly, my friend,” Maddox said, “I think you’ve been living beneath a patch of heavy moss. Everyone knows that the goddesses are real. How can they not be?”

  “Knowing and seeing are two different things.” Then Magnus frowned. “Did you just call me your friend?”

  “Did I?”

  “You did. I heard you.”

  “My mistake.”

  “I would say so.”

  Maddox gave him a withering look. “Clearly, I have no friends. And, based on the short time I’ve known you, I’m in serious doubt that you have any either.”

  “Clearly.” Magnus’s lips thinned, and he turned his attention back to the courtesan. “My time runs short. I have only until sundown, and I’d really rather not wait that long. Do whatever it is you need to do in regard to this blade.” He pushed the shard of obsidian across the table toward her. “And I’ll be on my way.”

  “Not yet,” she said, shaking her head. “First I must know you better.”

  Magnus grimaced. “As lovely as you are, I have no gold coins on me, nor am I tempted to distraction by such offers.”

  “Don’t worry, boy, such offers were revoked the moment I learned who sent you here.” Samara didn’t smile; instead she looked annoyed with him. “Why did she send a boy to do the work of a man? She tries my patience each and every time.”

  “This has happened before?”

  “This is the third time. And each is more difficult for me than the last.” Samara looked away for a moment, her forehead creasing as if in deep thought. When she returned her gaze to Magnus’s, her expression had shifted to one that was unreadable. “I wish only to tell your fortune so I know whom I’m dealing with and if you can be trusted. So I’ll know for certain that it was the old woman who sent you and not someone else.”

  “A fortune-teller?” Magnus said drily. “Such trivialities are meant for silly parties in Auranos.”

  She frowned. “Auranos?”

  Magnus sighed. “Never mind.”

  “I won’t continue until you do this.” She reached out toward him. “Give me your hand.”

  He studied her, wanting to make demands, wanting her to follow his orders without hesitation like the servants at the palace.

  But she didn’t know who he was and who his father was. And, frankly, he didn’t have the time or inclination to try to explain.

  “Very well,” he said. “But make haste about it.”

  Magnus held out his hand, and she took it, squeezing it in hers, and stared deeply into his eyes.

  Then her gaze grew vacant. She stared past him, focusing on some invisible point far in the distance. “I sense ice on familiar pathways, threatening to make you slip. Your boots are new and don’t grip the frosty ground as well as you’d like them to. Slipping would make you look a fool in front of your classmates, and you can’t have that, can you?”

  Magnus’s eyebrows raised as she deftly explained something that had happened less than a month ago. He’d since had the palace cobbler put different soles on his new leather boots, much more suitable for Limeros’s frigid climate.

  She didn’t wait for a confirmation. “Now I see a maze . . . a labyrinth . . . perched upon the highest cliff in the kingdom. It’s chiseled from thousands of blocks of ice, so beautiful as it catches the light. You think it’s nearly as beautiful as the one it was gifted to, someone close to you. Yes, I sense that she’s the reason you feel such urgency to return to your home. She’s family, but to you she’s more than family.”

  “My sister,” he found himself saying, the image of Lucia clear in his mind. The king was not as cruel and unbending toward her as he was toward Magnus, but Magnus still didn’t want to leave her all alone in the palace without his protection.

  Lucia didn’t know he’d made it a priority to watch over her, but he had. As she grew older, she grew more beautiful—bringing unworthy suitors scratching at the doors of the palace, seeking a betrothal to the princess.

  It was sickening, really. She was barely fifteen years old and much preferred talk of books to talk of boys.

  Magnus hoped it would remain that way forever.

  “Tell me,” Magnus asked, brushing his fingers against his sca
rred cheek, wishing to test Samara’s seemingly impressive abilities. “Can you see how I got this?”

  Samara’s gaze remained distant, but her brows drew together. “A moment of childhood curiosity as you discovered a dark secret of the past—and the memories it stirred summoned pain . . . pain for both of you.”

  Magnus frowned. “Trust me, the one who gave me this felt no pain in his actions—only embarrassment for a son who’s never risen to his impossibly high expectations and likely never will.”

  “So much pain,” Samara said, nodding, as if she hadn’t heard a word he said. “So many shadows to navigate in the gathering darkness. But I see a light—a golden light as bright as the sun that you will be drawn to without a choice. You will resist, but you will fail. Be careful, though. Moths are also drawn to flames.”

  Magnus withdrew his hand from the woman’s, and her gaze finally cleared. She blinked a few times.

  “Fascinating, really,” he said without much enthusiasm. “Did you see what you needed to? You made no mention of the old woman.”

  She regarded him for a second in silence, then she nodded. “I saw enough.” Without another word, she turned to Maddox. “Now it’s your turn.”

  Maddox had watched all of this in silence, his eyes wide. “Me?”

  “Yes.” She reached out and took his hand in hers. “Look at me.”

  He nodded, not giving her nearly as much resistance as Magnus had. Magnus held back any curt words to hurry this along and tried to summon what little patience he had left.

  Drawn to a golden light as bright as the sun.

  A moth to a flame.

  What absolute drivel.

  Maddox watched the woman, the anticipation of this fortune-telling clear on his young face. “What do you see?” he asked.

  Samara frowned a little. “I see a man you despise but are forced to travel with. I see a mother who worries, a mother who keeps so many secrets that she’s forgotten how to trust anyone. I see . . . a snake that will solve one of your troubles.”

  “A snake?” Maddox said, scrunching his nose.

  “I see someone whose life will touch yours, a traveler from a land far from here.”

  “Is it a girl?” Magnus asked. “Perhaps he will be the moth drawn to her dangerous flame?”