Page 39 of Stolen

He frowned. “Why don’t we interfere? Because it would—”

“No. Why do any of it?” I strolled forward, not stopping until we stood nearly toe to toe. “People are motivated by all sorts of things, Brother Jordan. Money, sex, power. What motivates you?”

He blinked, and the aura of boyish reserve fell away. He was still a slight, unassuming young man, but now his blue eyes brimmed with otherworldly power. I’d felt similar power while standing in the Sanctum, although this wasn’t blood magic. It was more primitive. Wild and ancient. He held it within him, all that energy leashed in his sky-blue eyes.

“The Thicket was never meant to stand forever, Your Grace. It bought us time, but the evil it contains wasn’t fully destroyed. Now, the barrier is failing, its magic weakening. The land is unsettled. Everything is connected—the Thicket, the Rift, and your Deepnight. If one falls, the rest fall with it, and there will be nothing to stop the evil of Eldenvalla from spreading throughout Ter Isir. If the demons are loosed, there is no fighting them. Weapons are useless against something that can reach into your head and make you see your worst nightmare. Your family disemboweled before your eyes. Your friends tortured. Your village burned.” He stared at a point just beyond my shoulder, and his eyes took on a faraway, unfocused look. “I’ve seen the possibilities. Streets running with blood. People clawing their own eyes out. Parents murdering their children because the monsters are coming and they’d rather bury their child than watch it scream before it dies.”

The way he described it, I couldn’t help but see it, too.

He flicked his gaze back to mine. “I serve Ter Isir, Your Grace. I defend the light against darkness. Why, you ask? Because someone has to. That’s what motivates me.”

The silence that fell was brittle, like the slightest sound might shatter the dungeon and us with it. But this wasn’t a time for quiet.

“You know Varick and Given are prisoners in Vai Seren?” I asked.

He nodded. “And before you accuse me of withholding that information, you should know I only came by it today.”

“The same day you received word of Queen Elissa’s miscarriage and Rolund’s sickly heir. Quite a web of informants you command, Brother Jordan. It almost makes me think you’re no ordinary mage at all.”

His lips twitched, a there-and-gone flash of humor that made him look like an unassuming young man once more. But I wasn’t fooled this time.

“Is this one of those rare occasions you deem it necessary to interfere, or do we need to go back to finding out which one of us is more powerful?”

“Your knights will have to remain on the Wesyfeddan side of the forest,” he said. “It’s mages we need, not soldiers.”

“You won’t get any complaints from my men about that.” I motioned for him to walk with me. As we passed Rowena’s cell, a flash of light caught my eye. Her pendant lay against her breast, the mirrored surface reflecting the flame from the lamp.

Jordan stood at my shoulder.

“She told the truth about loving her husband,” I said, “and yet she dedicated her life to killing others just like him.”

“When you believe in your own righteousness, it’s easier to justify your actions even when they hurt other people.” Jordan looked at me. “Perhaps she thought her god would forgive her the sin of love.”

My hand throbbed at my side. We both knew he wasn’t speaking of Rowena anymore. “And what of your prophecy? Is it righteous to kill one child to save thousands?”

“It’s not my prophecy, Your Grace. And I believe Lord Varick will come to understand why you acted as you did.”

“You swore an oath to him. You sealed it with your blood on his dagger.”

Sky-blue eyes widened slightly.

“You’re not the only one with spies, Jordan,” I said gently. “If you’re going to swear a blood oath, next time do it somewhere less conspicuous than my library.”

He looked away. “I swore to serve him, and I meant it.”

“Varick sees the world differently than you and I. For him, things are very much black and white. He may decide to kill you for not telling him about the prophecy.”

Jordan drew an even breath and looked at me. “I know. I’m prepared for that possibility.”

“Are you?” I angled my head down as I adjusted my gloves, pulling the leather more snugly over my wrists. “Even though he promised your death would be neither quick nor easy?” I looked up to find Jordan watching me with a new appreciation in his gaze. Good. I would tolerate his maneuvering because I needed his help. But my tolerance had limits. And now he knew I had my own way of killing without getting my hands dirty.

I raised my brows.

A muscle twitched in his jaw. “If that’s what the future holds, I accept it.”

“Ah.” I went to the door and lifted the lamp from its hook. “Well in that case, I suppose we both have to hope the general is more forgiving than the Lord of the Mir. I’ll have the servants ready our horses. We leave for Wesyfedd within the hour.”

I left, hope chasing the exhaustion from my limbs. But as I made my way to my chambers, I couldn’t help wondering if Jordan was right to believe Varick would understand why I’d kept the prophecy from him. Ultimately, he might decide my silence was unforgivable. If that happened, he wouldn’t kill me. I was the king, and Varick would never draw a blade against me. No, he’d simply leave.

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