David Wells - Linkershim

With a wave of Phane’s hand, the spell ended and the corpse crashed to the ground.

“This is what I must resort to since you broke my mirror,” Phane said. “You will choose my sacrifices from now on … as punishment.”

“You have the real box,” Isabel said, ignoring his very terrifying threat. She felt sick to her stomach, but pushed it aside and imposed control on her emotions as only a witch could.

“Of course I have the box,” Phane said. “I replaced it with a weapon inspired by your own Mage Gamaliel scarcely five minutes after Lacy Fellenden fell asleep the night she arrived.” He looked at her, shaking his head. “Did you imagine that it could be otherwise? My prize walks right through the front door and you think I would leave it in another’s care?

“I have all three keystones, my dear Isabel … it’s just that I can’t get to one of them right now.”

“That is a problem, isn’t it? But why the fake box?”

“Isn’t it obvious? My enemies want the box as much as I do, so I put a powerfully enchanted fake into play. It was a simple matter to ensure that it fell into one of my many enemies’ hands. After that, I could take their life with a single command. I had originally intended to end the Sin’Rath once they’d gathered on Ithilian, but I couldn’t resist when I saw the shade board the ship with Druja.”

“Aedan is dead?”

“If that was the dragon’s name, then yes,” Phane said. “I suspect the shade is especially unhappy with me, but it was well worth it. He’s dangerous enough as it is, but intolerably so in possession of a dragon. As for the witch, well … I’ve always hated the Sin’Rath.”

“I mourn Aedan,” Isabel said, “but I can do without Druja, and I’m happy to hear that the shade is preoccupied with you. More importantly, you still can’t open the box.”

“Not yet, but more paths to victory become available to me every day.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Hector, Trajan, Lacy, Torin … all of them represent a way to open the box. One of them will deliver, sooner or later. But even if they don’t, I can still win. Your beloved is a prisoner on Andalia. Once they persuade him to hand over the Stone, he will be delivered to me.”

“So your people don’t have the Stone now, then?” Isabel said.

“It’s only a matter of time.”

“If you say so.”

“As I understand it, Alexander is entangled in a web of lies with the Babachenko. He believes that he and the Andalians are working together in their efforts to recover the Sovereign Stone.”

Isabel tried to maintain her composure, but she couldn’t help herself. She broke down laughing, then slowly sat down to mitigate the pain her convulsions caused in her still-healing body.

“The Babachenko assures me that he’s created a spell capable of thwarting your beloved’s ability to see a person’s aura.”

“What about everyone else?” Isabel asked. “All of the other people who have to be around him if you’re going to make sure he doesn’t escape. Do you really think you managed to lie to him?” She started laughing again.

“It won’t matter,” Phane said. “Nero is there with ample forces. If the ruse doesn’t work, we’ll simply take Alexander without the Stone.”

“I bet that wouldn’t feel like much of a victory.”

“No, but it may be necessary. Besides, I’d wager that you would make for high-value leverage against Alexander. He might do just about anything to protect you.”

“He’d better not,” she said.

Phane frowned at her, shaking his head. “I’m not sure I will ever understand you,” he said, finally.

“I’m certain you won’t.”

“It doesn’t have to be this way, Isabel,” Phane said. “I’ll give you anything you want.”

“You don’t have anything I want.”

“Don’t you understand?” he snapped. “I’m offering you the world. You can rule over the entire Seven Isles in my name. I’ll let you run things any way you like.”

“I understand exactly what you’re offering and I reject it,” Isabel said.

“You know, it doesn’t have to be you, Isabel. I’m sure that any woman I chose in all the Seven Isles would be flattered by my attention.”

“Until she got to know you.”

“You try my patience.”

“What? Are you going to beat me again?”

“I just might, but later,” Phane said, motioning to the guard at the door the moment he heard the knock.

It opened wide and Lacy and Wren were herded into the room, followed by a stout man and a half dozen female guards.

“Well done, Drogan,” Phane said. “Report for duty tomorrow and don’t ever return to this house. Men are not allowed here, except in unusual circumstances.”

“I was sent to retrieve them,” Drogan said. “Job isn’t done until you deliver the goods to the boss.”

“Indeed, and a job well done at that,” Phane said. “You are dismissed.”

Drogan nodded awkwardly and excused himself, followed closely by two of Phane’s female guards.

Isabel searched Wren’s eyes for any sign of encouragement but found none, and her initial appraisal of Lacy found the princess wanting, or at least out of her depth. Things were going from bad to worse.

“Ladies, do come in,” Phane said. “I’ve taken the liberty of preparing a dinner for us all.”

Isabel nodded to Wren, almost imperceptibly. She came to Isabel’s side and took the chair to her right without ever seeming to look up.

“What is the meaning of this, Prince Phane?” Lacy demanded.

“The meaning is quite simple, Princess. You are my prisoner. You can either sit at my table on your own, or one of those very large men over there will pick you up and put you in your chair.”

Lacy started to say something else but thought better of it, clenching her jaw shut before she took the seat next to Wren.

“Excellent, I believe we’re beginning to understand each other,” Phane said, opening his Wizard’s Den with a gesture. He slipped inside, then quickly stepped back out, closing it behind himself with a word. He held up the box containing the third keystone and set it on the table in front of his chair.

“Lacy … I want you to open this box.”

“Don’t do it,” Isabel said.

“I won’t,” Lacy said.

Phane sat down, motioning for the nervous servant to fill his wine flagon, then taking a long drink before returning his attention to the table.

“Can’t say I expected you to cooperate, but I think I’ll hang on to you just the same,” Phane said, tossing two collars onto the table in front of her and Wren.

“Put them on,” he said.

“What do they do?” Lacy asked, picking up the collar and looking at it suspiciously.

“They’re called Andalian slave collars … you’ll both understand how they work much better after you put them on.”

Wren put her hands flat on the table and stared forward.

“I won’t put it on,” Lacy said. “I’m not a slave.”

“That’s where you’re mistaken,” Phane said, holding her in her chair with his magic, the collar floating off the table and roughly snapping into place around her neck.

Wren sat with her hands on the table, ignoring his order. The other collar floated up, closing around her neck with a click.

“If you try to leave the city, your collars will choke you,” Phane said. “Otherwise, you’re free to pass through any door that will open for you. Now, enjoy a meal with me,” he said, smiling brightly.

Servants entered with a wide variety of dishes. Isabel ate freely, building strength for the coming days. She ignored Phane’s attempts to engage her in small talk, focusing on her food until he gave up and shifted his interest to Lacy.