Abaddon's Mark

Chapter Forty-Nine

AN: The book is almost finished. I'm writing up a summer chapters novelette then will launch into the third book. Cover designer is aware but hasn't started work yet. The updates slowed to buy me some time. 

Months passed. Months of little needles digging their way into Nillon's skin and burying themselves in his flesh. Every time Nendan came near him, he let out little sounds, trying to speak the truth but biting back at the same time. Each time Nillon squeaked out, Nendan would cast him a weary look, tilt his head, and move on.

He knew when the same sort of magic was used on Maeno because that digging sensation went away for a night. He felt it shift away even as he realized it was bigger than he imagined. Felt it to his very core, and he knew it could be so much worse, and yet... couldn't. Maeno suffered an immediate demand. Nillon's was a slow burn. There was an understanding that eventually, the truth would come out and how much Nillon suffered was up to him.

The day of the year end ball, the one taking place a day before the annual alumni ball, Nillon let out just such a squeak. Nendan turned, looked him over, and then sighed out.

Lugh asked no questions and made no demands.

Nillon had gone to them and been turned away. Lugh had no work for him. No commands or rules or changes. The only thing different about his life was the shape of his band and the needles digging into his skin. No wife. No prospects. If the Seven planned to dictate his wife, they were saying no more than Lugh on Nillon's new duties.

"Now then?" Lord Lugh muttered. "Very well."

Nillon couldn't say why he took Nendan to his workroom, but he knew that as they walked, the pins and needles he had been standing on faded. He felt comfortable and protected no matter what even though he knew that wasn't possible.

He was near tears as they entered his workroom.

Nillon was no fool.

He had no one.

What he did was a betrayal of his own trust. The only other person involved was his uncle and Jasor would surely have four different plans by then. Whatever plan the man had originally would have been tossed out the second he realized what was going on. He would be miles ahead of the Seven.

But Nillon just couldn't take it any longer.

He blurted it all out.

All of it.

When he finished, he ended up collapsing to his knees, panting in desperation for the clean air he was granted. For those seconds of frightening silence in which his master judged him.

"Describe Jasor's workroom."

"But—"

Nillon looked up and met the eyes of Lord Lugh. The keenness of a dragon stared back at him.

"Describe it. Whatever you recall."

Nillon described the room in good detail. He knew the detail wasn't perfect, but he did know it was a good recounting. He had waited until Jasor left the estate, headed for a holiday in the south, and then slunk in to steal the book he had been shown. He had found the book, but it had been nothing more than blank pages. That, too, he had related to Nendan.

In re-entering his uncle's workroom, he had committed much of it to memory for fear of upsetting something and not placing it back where it belonged. All were standard items that Nillon quickly recognized, aside from the one curiosity that he spent some time studying before returning to his room to sketch it out.

He had the sketch in his workroom there, so he simply handed it over to Nendan. The lord didn't even look at the paper, simply folded it and placed it in a pocket on the inside of his formal jacket.