Half Magic | Book 2

Thirty Four: Shadow of Ice

DuVarick.

He was still coming after us, even out of the Wyldes. 

I knew in my heart that he would. We destroyed the most vicious parts of Icehold. The places where his army honed their viscious talents. The training yards, the armories. The gauntlet.

The madness that drove him to both love and hate Lark still drove him to want my destruction. The madness surrounding his own daughter was still powerful as well, but I would never let him lay a hand on Schula again. Even Nassir was still on his mind after all this time. Bur of course he was, Nassir was his triquetram. He should have been treasured as a piece of his own soul. Instead, he was trapped away.

I clenched my fists. DuVarick. How could he keep his own triquetram hostage like that? Malnourished and weakened and blinded. Close enough to reap the benefits of a triquetram, but isolated enough that all but the oldest fae had forgotten his existence. 

And this agent he sent after us. How far had this fae followed us? Was he in Sulls? The sands? Or did he pick up our trail later?

Schula still had a hand covering her mouth as she took a step back. Nassir was handling it better, but he was still upset under his calm facade. I had a much different reaction to the news. Rage.

"How dare you?" I took a step forward and something in me snapped. The hairs on my neck stood up, the magic in the air crawled up my spine and down my legs. Hot. My legs felt hot. My eyes flicked down and back, just long enough to register that the flames that danced around my steps were an entwined mix of purple and red. Both halves. The Wyldes, and the witches.

To his credit, DuVarick's fae flinched at the sight of me before regaining his composure. Or, as much composure as he could recover since he was trapped to his chest in limestone.

"DuVarick has more fae," he spat. "You can kill me, but more will come. I've left trails, markings. You can't escape him."

"Stop it!" I cried, flinging my arms in front of me. Fire erupted. My fury erupted. The flames licked at the fae for a heartbeat before an icy chill put them out. 

"N-no, Wren," Schula said softly. "He can't talk if we kill him."

My flames licked higher, almost to the ceiling before calming back down. I stuffed them back inside myself, quelling the anger. Schuila was right. And if I were in my right mind, I would have been ashamed at such a violent thought as killing him. 

I shivered. I had killed before. The image of Asher's last moments in the maw of the creature under the crater lake flashed in my mind. With the rage mostly knocked from me and the worry over the blood on my hands, I took a step back. Nassir and Schula were both far older than me, and they would be better suited to handle this.

"Your king is mad," Nassir said, stepping forward. "You do realize this, don't you?"

"My king's mind is brilliant. You can call him mad, but he will lead his court to radiant victory!" The fae spat. 

"What do we do with him?" Schula asked. 

"If he's right and someone is on our trail, we need to move as soon as we can," Nassir said. 

"But... how to fix the barrier..." It almost came out as a whine. 

"I know," Schula said. She entwined our fingers together, holding my hand but still looking at the captured fae. 

We had been here for a month, waiting for the chance to ask at this gathering for any witches who know about it. If we left now, then it would have all been a waste of time.