“The usual delivery schedule is fine. I have a more pressing problem.” The captain stabbed his finger at Leonidas.
Conley frowned again, still confused. “What do you mean?”
A cruel, thin smile split Wexel’s face. “He needs to disappear—permanently.”
My gaze snapped over to the prince. Leonidas’s face was calm and blank, but his anger and frustration punched into my heart like a red-hot poker.
Who was Wexel working for? I couldn’t imagine the arrogant captain obeying anyone other than the Morricone royals, and the highest-ranking royal was . . .
Queen Maeven.
Shock slammed into my stomach. Would Maeven be so heartless as to order her own son’s execution?
“Well?” Wexel demanded. “Can you handle this?”
Conley wet his lips again. “Of—of course.”
“Excellent. I’m glad we understand each other.”
The captain jerked his head. Two of the guards reached for Leonidas, but he struck first, head-butting one of the men, who grunted and staggered away. Leonidas drove his elbow into the gut of the second guard, who also grunted and staggered away. His attacks created an opening in the ring of men, but instead of bolting into the woods and trying to escape, the prince charged at Wexel, his hands stretching out toward the captain’s throat.
Wexel jerked back in surprise. He was still clutching the chain, and the inadvertent motion sent Leonidas tumbling down to the ground. He growled, surged back up onto his feet, and charged at the captain again.
An instant before he would have reached Wexel, the two guards he’d attacked latched onto the prince’s arms. Leonidas struggled, but given the guards’ strength magic, he couldn’t break their grips, and the coldiron shackles around his wrists, as well as the collar circling his neck, kept him from unleashing his mind magier power.
Even with the restraints, all the guards shot him wary looks, as if they realized that Leonidas Morricone was still capable of killing every single one of them with his bare hands.
Wexel dropped the chain and drew the sword on his belt. The metal made an evil hiss as it slid free from the scabbard. The captain twirled the sword around in his hand.
“Any last words, Your Highness?” Wexel mocked.
Leonidas gave him another icy, murderous glare. “You won’t get away with this—”
Wexel lunged, his sword racing toward the prince’s heart.
* * *
NO!
I didn’t know if I was hearing Leonidas’s silent scream, or if the thought was my own, but I flinched in pain and surprise. More of that treacherous sympathy pricked my heart, and I did something I never, ever thought that I would do again.
I tried to save Leonidas Morricone.
I grabbed the invisible thread of energy attached to Wexel’s sword and flicked my fingers, using my magic to force the weapon off course. Instead of sinking into the prince’s heart, the blade stabbed into his upper chest, close to his shoulder.
Leonidas screamed and jerked back, but the two guards held him in place.
Wexel grinned and twisted his sword, trying to shove it even deeper into Leonidas’s chest. But once again, I reached out with my magic, this time curling my fingers into a tight fist, and stopped the blade.
The captain growled in frustration, wrapped both hands around the sword’s hilt, and surged forward. Wexel put his considerable mutt strength behind the blow, and his power battered against my own, threatening to break my invisible grip on his sword. If that happened, the blade would punch all the way through Leonidas’s chest, killing him instantly.
Anger spiked through me. If anyone here was going to murder Leonidas Morricone, then it was going to be me.
But Wexel was exceptionally strong, and I couldn’t hold his sword back forever, not without tipping him off that someone was using magic against him, so I aimed my power lower, yanking on his right ankle. His boot slipped on the grass, making him stagger to the side, although he managed to keep one hand on his sword.
Wexel growled again, but he must have thought that he’d mortally wounded Leonidas because he yanked his sword out of the prince’s chest, making him scream again. The guards released Leonidas, who swayed back and forth like a tree about to topple under a woodcutter’s axe.
More pinpricks of sympathy stabbed into my heart. I didn’t know why I’d helped him. Because you’re still a fool, all these years later, my own snide little voice whispered in my mind.
Leonidas’s gaze darted over to me, and his pain-glazed eyes locked with mine, as if he’d heard my silent admonishment. I froze, my breath trapped in my throat and my heart hammering against my ribs again. He opened his mouth, but no words escaped his lips. Then his eyes rolled up in the back of his head, and he collapsed.
Silence dropped over the clearing. Wexel loomed over Leonidas, but no one else moved or spoke. I reached out with my magic again. Leonidas’s mind was as blank as an empty chalkboard, but his heart was still thump-thump-thumping, although the sound was growing slower and weaker. He was still alive, but he wouldn’t stay that way for long without help.
I was no bone master, so I couldn’t heal Leonidas, but I could at least slow his blood loss. Once again, I curled my fingers into a fist. Only this time, instead of stopping Wexel’s sword, I imagined balling up Leonidas’s tunic in my hand and then shoving the fabric into his wound.
Ball up, and shove down. Ball and shove. Ball and shove . . .
I did that over and over again, until I had packed as much fabric into the wound as I could. Lucky for me, and him too, the prince was still wearing his black cloak and riding coat, and no one seemed to notice his tunic moving and rippling underneath the other garments.
I released my magic and listened again. Thump-thump-thump. Leonidas’s heart was still beating, the sound steady, if a bit slow. Maybe I had saved him. Maybe not, but I’d done all that I could for him.
Wexel must have seen my hand move out of the corner of his eye, because his gaze snapped over to me. I stood absolutely still and kept my face schooled into a neutral expression, as if watching the attempted murder of a prince was an everyday occurrence and no more noteworthy than the cool breeze gusting through the clearing.
The captain faced Conley again. “Dump his body someplace it will never be found.”
“Of—of course,” Conley stammered.
Wexel opened his mouth as if to say something else, but instead he grimaced and looked up, as though expecting to see something other than clouds in the sky. An unexpected emotion surged off him and zinged up against my skin—fear.
I frowned. Wexel had just tried to murder his own prince. What could possibly worry him after doing something so brutal and treacherous?
The captain dropped his gaze from the sky, whirled around, and strode off toward the woods on the opposite side of the clearing. Instead of relaxing, now that his foul deed was done, he clutched his sword and continued to glance upward, as though he was expecting a lightning bolt or something else equally dangerous to strike him down.
“Let’s go!” Wexel ordered.
The guards hefted their bags of tearstone a little higher in their arms, then followed him. The Mortans disappeared into the trees, leaving Leonidas lying in the clearing.
Conley, Penelope, and the other miners all visibly relaxed, and tension rushed out of them like air leaking from a child’s balloon.