“Yet. Why not light a beacon and pinpoint our location?” was Hiix’s snarled reply.
She was right, of course.
Still, Venna pouted. “I just want something cooked.”
Several days had passed since their last proper meal. They’d done their best to avoid towns and people. Foraging kept them fed. It just didn’t taste all that great.
“I might be able to help with the cooking part,” Agathe said, finally rousing to break up the squabble.
“No fires,” Hiix reiterated.
“I know. And no smoke, either. I’m going to try something with my magic.”
“Is that wise?” Hiix asked. She’d been the one to caution about using it too much.
“This close to the rim I can replenish it easily enough. Not to mention, I’d rather be empty than full if something attacks us.” She could only hold so much monster magic before she went into convulsions.
“Do it.” Venna thrust the venison at her.
The dark meat held a layer of salt to preserve it. Agathe grabbed hold of it and almost dropped the hunk. The deadness of it jarred her senses, turned her stomach. The rawness of it bothered, so she concentrated, focusing the power inside her. A tickle of something flowed through her blood. She imagined heat, enough to cook the venison.
Her fingers remained their normal temperature, and she might have declared failure if Venna hadn’t said, “I smell something cooking.”
Indeed, the waft of roasted meat became noticeable even as Agathe’s fingers remained cool. She moved her hand around the chunk, pouring extra heat into the fatty parts to crisp it. By the time it finished grilling, it smelled mouthwateringly good.
“Give it so I can cut.” Venna flexed her greedy fingers.
Not even thinking, Agathe handed it over. Only to feel immediate chagrin as Venna yelped and dropped it.
“It’s hot!”
“You idiot!” Hiix pointed to the meat sitting on the ground.
“It’s still good. Just adds a little more texture.” Venna recovered it gingerly this time, laying it on a rock. Frowned. Brushed off the bits of dirt then hacked at it with her knife.
She handed them each a piece. Hiix didn’t complain as she took a bite.
As they ate—and spat out the grit—they started walking. Aimlessly, Agathe might add. They’d reached the edge of the valley and now circled it. Others might avoid the open spaces on the rim of the Abyss, but Agathe could think of no better place to hide, as the mist and monster threat kept people away.
It wasn’t until they paused for a drink and a squat that Hiix finally said, “What’s the plan?”
Despite Agathe being the youngest of them, they looked to her as they once looked to the original Agathe. As if she had the answers.
Not anymore. With so many mistakes plaguing her, doubt had her musing aloud, “Did I make the right choice in leaving the Citadel?” When she’d recovered her magic, her only thought had been to flee before the King retook it. Because the bastard didn’t just steal her power. Her youth had disappeared, as well. A two-for-one whammy that explained all the older women in the Citadel. Former Blessed, who didn’t even realize what they’d lost. A spell of forgetfulness cast upon them ensured their compliance.
“I think you made the right choice in leaving.” The statement from Venna surprised.
“How can you say that when you lost access to the King’s library?”
Venna was convinced there had to be a book somewhere that told them how to deal with the rising-mist situation. Their ancestors had beaten it once. They could do it again. The problem being, it appeared as if the Blessed and the magic within them were key. However, a lack of the purple-eyed meant they couldn’t call upon them for aid. And even if they could find some, none but Agathe seemed to know how to use the power.
So what could she do to help? Agathe would have liked any book, heck, even a scroll, explaining what she could do. She muddled about with no idea of its limits or possibilities.
“That library was nice, but it became clear they didn’t have—or would never show me—what I really needed to know.” Venna waved her hand.
The truth. The King’s reign was shrouded in many secrets, the biggest being why he’d stolen magic in the first place. A power no one suspected existed. Not even those who donated it.
People recognized by their purple eyes were given to the King during a yearly ceremony. Citizens gladly handed over their purple-eyed children for the wealth they received in return. As to the King’s use for them? The general populace didn’t know or seem to care.
But Agathe did.
Once she’d thrown off his spell of forgetfulness, it’d become apparent that he’d stolen her magic—along with her youth. It had been a shock to realize that she’d gone from the blush of her second decade to one approaching her fourth. And kept aging at a faster rate than others. She’d never been happier as when she’d peeled away enough years not to have that nagging lower backache.
“I feel like maybe I was hasty. We left before even meeting the King.” The thing she regretted most. She’d wanted to look at the man who’d ordered the real Agathe killed and watch the life go out of his eyes as he died.
“Probably for the best. If you’d tried anything, one of his soldiers would have retaliated.” Venna patted her in commiseration.
Agathe’s lips twisted. “His soldiers are complicit. They have to know what he’s doing.” Her lover, Maric, must have known. The man she’d loved had been party to the kidnapping and essentially what amounted to the slow murder of too many.
“Maybe,” Venna countered. “I have to wonder if they’re under the same spell as the Blessed women.” One that made them forget things.
“I don’t get that impression. Maric seemed to recall giving away the thing that gave him the purple eyes. But the old women in the Citadel…” Agathe had asked them questions about their lives. Vacuous smiles and vague answers were the replies. Worse, they appeared happy.
Had that been the first time the King had gotten his hands on her?
To think she’d handed herself over to that despot. She’d decided on the festival as the best way to get close. The last thing she remembered was her nervousness as she presented herself to those officiating the ceremony. Then—
Nothing.
Not until the moment she awoke in the tunnels under the castle, running frantically, wearing dark robes that she didn’t recognize, her hair shorn under her head covering. The most shocking part of all wasn’t the blood staining her hands but rather the dullness of her senses. Her magic…gone.
Terrifying. So terrifying, she’d never expected that she’d one day return and actually manage to steal it back. Now that she had succeeded, she hadn’t the slightest clue what to do.
“It doesn’t matter if there is a spell or not. The Blessed aren’t the problem,” Hiix interrupted. “Fact of the matter is, once the brat got her magic back, we had to leave.” Because once the King realized what she’d done, he’d have never let her keep it.
Unacceptable. She needed it more than him. It’s mine.
“I just wish I knew what to do,” she muttered aloud, not for the first time since their flight.