Lilia rose to her feet, following the others at the table. Around them, the sound of footfalls on stone pavers told her that the enchanters who lined the rows of tables in the cavernous space were filing out of the feasting hall.
Thrindul stretched out an arm so that his hawk could step onto it from its perch on the back of his chair. He wore a leather arm guard over the sleeve of his white robe, to protect his flesh from the hawk’s talons.
Not for the first time, Lilia wondered at the bird—was it a familiar of some sort? She’d heard that some enchanters did indeed bond with animals and birds.
Thrindul glanced up, his gaze spearing Lilia’s.
“We have a closed council now,” he informed her, “and will be busy for the rest of the afternoon. I shall have you escorted back to your room, if you’re tired.”
Lilia was tired—she still hadn’t recovered from the day before—but at the same time she felt restless and on-edge. She had no wish to go back to her cell-like chamber and ponder her predicament.
“I wish to take a look around the House?” she replied. “Is that allowed?”
Asher, who had just gotten to his feet next to the High Enchanter, smiled. “Of course it is—there’s plenty to see here. Make sure you visit the garden room.”
Thrindul gave the blond man a quelling look before shifting his attention back to Lilia. “A tour is permitted—just make sure you don’t leave the House.” Without another word he stepped down from the dais and strode away, carrying his white hawk aloft. Irana and Asher followed.
Lilia watched them go, not trusting herself to speak as irritation bubbled up within her.
“See you at supper, lovely Lilia.” Brand winked at her before he turned and followed the High Enchanter and the others.
Pretending she hadn’t heard him, Lilia turned to where Saul and Dain had risen to their feet. Dain looked annoyed whereas Saul wore an indifferent expression. “Fancy a walk too?” she asked.
Saul shrugged. “Why not?”
Dain nodded.
Two enchanters stood waiting for them at the foot of the dais. One of them was Gunner, the young man with curly dark hair and a friendly face, who had greeted Lilia that morning. The other was a solemn-faced man of around thirty winters with thinning red hair. Both wore robes of the Dark.
“So you’d like a tour of the House?” Gunner greeted them with a smile. “Lars and I’d be happy to show you around.”
He had such a friendly manner it was easy to forget she was a prisoner here—and that he was one of her jailors. However, Lars’ dour face reminded Lilia that the hospitality was in name only.
Lilia exited the hall, flanked by the enchanters, with Saul and Dain bringing up the rear. Gunner and Lars took them through the first floor of the House first, through the huge kitchens at the rear of the building, the store rooms and the library, which took up one corner of the second floor. The library was a musty, damp space that had a forgotten, slightly melancholy air to it.
“Don’t the enchanters use this much?” Lilia asked.
“Apprentices take their lessons in here most mornings,” Gunner replied. “The rest of us don’t bother with the library much.”
“We’re busy with more important matters,” Lars added, his voice low and gravelly. “Our numbers are small and the need for our abilities grows. There’s no time for study.”
Emerging from the library, Lilia spotted a set of stone stairs that descended into the basement. She turned to Gunner. “Where do they lead?”
“The Vault.”
Lilia glanced back at the stairs, thinking of Ryana locked up somewhere down there. Behind her, Dain and Saul didn’t comment, although when she shifted her gaze to them, she saw both of them observing the stairs.
Lilia turned back to Gunner. “Where to next?” she asked him, ignoring the look of sympathy on his face; he knew she worried over her friend’s fate.
“Upstairs,” he replied. “This way.”
They climbed the circular stairwell in the center of the building to the second floor. This was the level where the accommodation was housed, so there was little to see—except for a colonnaded portico that faced south. Decorated with pot plants and low stone seats it looked like the sort of place one came for reflection. In warmer weather it would have been pleasant, but this afternoon a fine drizzle drifted down from a helmet of grey, and a dank breeze made the air unpleasant—they didn’t linger.
Up on the third—and top—floor, the ceilings were higher, the corridors wider. The Council Chamber was located here, as were the High Enchanter’s lodgings. Thrindul and his council were currently meeting, and Lilia could hear the muffled rise and fall of their voices through the thick stone. She wondered if they were discussing her fate.
Most likely.
What would they decide? To lock her up in the Vault like Ryana, to ensure she didn’t try to escape? Take the stone from her by force?
Kill me?
These thoughts made her stomach hurt, so Lilia tried to ignore the rumble of discussion next door and, instead, focus on the tour.
Gunner and Lars took them into a long, thin hall lined with life-sized marble statues. Glad of the distraction, Lilia stopped before the first one, looking up into an aristocratic face: a bald man who wore enchanter’s robes.
“These are the previous High Enchanters of this Order,” Lars said, pride in his voice. “That’s Elthan, Thrindul’s predecessor.”
Lilia raised her eyebrows, looking at the statues of men and women immortalized in various stately poses. “How far back do they go?”
“Nearly one-thousand years.”
“Did all of them have a familiar, like Thrindul?”
Lars shook his head. “Very few did. Grim—that’s the hawk’s name—has a unique bond with his master.”
Behind them, someone yawned. Lars turned and cast an irritated look in Saul’s direction. “Are we boring you?”
Saul gave an apologetic smile. “All this pomp is wearing. Where’s the garden room Asher spoke of?”
Lars pointed to the end of the long hall, to where two oaken doors sat ajar. “Through there.”
“Let’s see it then.”
Both Gunner and Lars glared at Saul.
“When Lilia has finished in here, we’ll go through,” Gunner replied stiffly.
Lilia moved along the column of statues, examining the faces as she went. They were all so different—some austere, others arrogant, while a few were serene or gentle. She wondered at their lives here.
Eventually they reached the end of the column and Lilia turned her attention to the garden room. She could see a flash of greenery through the gap in the doors, and could smell rich, peaty earth and wet foliage.
She cast a glance back over her shoulder at where Saul and Dain trailed behind. Both of them looked bored now. “Come on then,” she said with a smile. “Let’s have a look.”
She and the enchanters had nearly reached the doors when a sound behind her made Lilia halt.
The meaty slap of flesh colliding, followed by a startled grunt.
Lilia swiveled around, to see that Saul had just chopped Dain across the throat with the side of his hand. Dain collapsed on the flagstone floor and grasped his neck, choking.
Saul bounded forward, moving so fast that Lilia and the enchanters had no time to react. He whipped out two knives from inside his leather jerkin. Lilia had thought he’d left his arsenal of blades in his chamber since arriving here, but instead, he’d just hidden them under his clothing.
Saul threw the blades with startling precision at the two men flanking Lilia.
Thud.
Thud.
Cries filled the hall as Gunner and Lars dropped to the ground, grappling with the hilts that now protruded from their chests.
Lilia screamed and leaped back, crashing into the doors to the garden room. Saul shoved her hard, and the doors flew open. Lilia tripped, fell and skidded across the polished floor, coming to rest against one of the large columns that held up the roof.
Behind her, Saul hauled the heavy oaken doors shut and threw the iron bolt, locking them both inside the garden room.
Dazed, Lilia rolled onto her side and pushed herself up against the column, grappling at its smooth surface for purchase. Her left arm and flank hurt from where she'd hit the hard floor. But she paid the pain no mind; her gaze riveted upon Saul who now blocked the only way out of this room.
She struggled to her feet; dimly aware of standing in a great colonnaded space with a vaulted ceiling and arched open windows, and of the wall of greenery surrounding her. Like the Council Chamber, the garden room’s great arched windows were open to the elements, bringing in a damp breeze. The only noise was the gentle patter of rain on the tiled roof above their head.
There was nothing but silence in the hall of statues outside.
Dain.
Saul was watching her now, and the look on his face caused her legs to tremble. Gone was the cultivated air of boredom. Gone was the easy, charming smile. Gone were the melting flirtatious looks. The mask had slipped, and the man before Lilia watched her with cold dispassion. “I've waited too long for this.”
Lilia didn't take her gaze off him as she leaned against the chill column at her back. One hand went to The King Breaker around her neck, her fist closing over it, while the other strayed to the knife Dain had gifted her. On his advice, she hadn’t taken it off once since Idriss.
Seeing her defensive stance, Saul smiled. “That knife won't help you. I've been a patient man but my tolerance has run out.”
Heart pounding, Lilia drew the blade at her waist. “I won't give it to you,” she gasped. A fierce wave of protectiveness crashed over her, so fierce it felt as if she were shielding a newborn child not a cold chunk of stone.
Lilia kept her gaze riveted upon Saul, waiting for him to come for her.
A sense of betrayal overwhelmed her. The others had warned her against him, but she’d trusted Saul. She’d been stupid, for Ryana and Dain had seen right through him from the beginning. Yet during the journey he hadn’t tried to take the stone from her. He had protected her, and she’d begun to think of him as a friend.
It had all been an act.
Saul slowly advanced on her, unarmed now for it appeared he’d used both his blades to fell Gunner and Lars. He moved with fluid grace, stalking her.
“I thought this would be easy,” he said, “but fate has been messing with me since the day I set eyes on that stone. I planned to take it from you the moment we left Idriss, but then suddenly it was a fight for survival—and those two never left you alone, not even for a moment.” Saul gave her a predatory smile. “And now we're here—and I'm running out of chances. It's time we ended this game.”
Lilia's breath hitched in her throat and she held the knife out toward him brandishing it threateningly. She saw the derision in his eyes, and remembered Dain's advice on how to hold the weapon.
You have no reach with a dagger. Keep the blade low and close to your body. If someone attacks you, let them get close before you stab upward.
Hastily, she did as Dain had taught her.
Saul laughed. A heartbeat later, he leaped forward, grabbed her wrist and pinned her up against the column—their bodies pressed together.
“Come on, Lily,” he murmured in her ear. “Don’t make this harder than it needs to be.”
In response, Lilia kicked him hard in the shins.
Saul cursed, his face twisting. Lilia brought up her knee sharply, aiming for his cods, but he shifted out of reach. With one hand he clasped Lilia about the neck, choking her as he pinned her against the column; with the other he reached down the front of her shirt for The King Breaker.
Desperation surged within Lilia. She struggled against him wildly, uncaring of whether he hurt her or not. She couldn’t let him take it—couldn’t let it come to any harm.
Suddenly, Saul inhaled sharply and staggered back, eyes wide.
Lilia stared at him, not understanding what was wrong, before she saw dark, spidery fingers wrapped around his neck, squeezing.
“You will not take it,” a voice rasped out. “You will not harm her.”
Saul reached up and pried the fingers from his neck, cursing as he flung Lilia’s shadow across the room. Then he came for Lilia once more.
She leaped forward to meet him and brought the knife up, low as Dain had shown her. Saul moved to deflect her, and the blade sliced his hand before slamming home into his left flank.
Saul roared.
His fist shot out, catching her across the jaw and sending her flying backward. Lilia slammed back against the column, still gripping the knife. Ignoring the pain, she watched him. She wouldn’t hesitate to stab him again, if he tried to get close to her.
However, Saul did not attack her.
He cursed and staggered sideways so that he leaned against the wide stone window ledge. His gaze flicked left, to where a great shadow loomed over him. Long arms and grasping hands reached for him and a low growl rumbled through the garden room.
Saul hunched over, trying to stem the flow of blood to his side. He glanced back at Lilia. “This isn’t over,” he wheezed. “I’m not done with you.”
Then without another word, he vaulted over the window ledge and disappeared from sight.
Lilia rushed forward and leaned over the ledge. Dark blood splattered the pale stone. She watched Saul land like a squirrel on the tiled roof around ten feet below. It was the roof of the Hall of Healing, two levels under them.
Lilia gaped, watching him roll and right himself. It was an incredible drop, especially injured, but Saul made it look easy. Half a dozen strides took him to the edge of the slate roof. Then he slipped over the edge and vanished.
It dawned on her then, that Saul had chosen this room deliberately. There was only one door in, and he must have known he could safely make the jump to the roof below.
Sagging against the window ledge, Lilia let the knife slip from nerveless fingers. It clattered onto the stone floor, but she did not bend to retrieve it.
Behind her, someone started banging on the door.