Spellbinder
Page 86
She swayed as she tried to absorb the enormity of what Death offered. Morgan would never be free of the geas. If there was one thing she could do that he would never be able to accept, it was this.
She whispered, “He’ll never forgive me.”
“You did not ask for forgiveness,” Azrael said. “He’ll have life, which is what you begged for.”
“Dealing with you is going to be the death of me,” she breathed.
His answering smile was a blade. “Of course.”
Two tears slipped out of the corners of her eyes. “What do you want me to do for you?”
“You will control Morgan’s geas, but he will remain as leader of my pack,” Azrael told her. His green gaze gleamed with fierce light. “At the end of each year he and the other Hounds will join me on my Hunt. I always claim what is mine. Together we will chase down any souls who have sought to cheat Death. At this year’s end, we will have plenty of prey, as it has been quite some time since I’ve sounded the Hunt. As for the rest of the year, he may live it as he chooses. And as for you… you will be Death’s musician. Your music will be mine. Whenever you find yourself alone, and you remember what has happened, play for me. And wherever you are, I will hear you.”
“Yes,” she said. “I’ll do it.”
His smile widened. “A sacrifice made of your free will, with the gift of life made in return. My brother god will be pleased. Now I will offer one more gift, if you have the will to take it. You may become one of my Hounds, if you wish. The Hounds born of my blade are subject to no other leader. The sorcerer will command his pack, but you would be sovereign in your own right and may walk your own solitary path, wherever the muse may lead you. It will give you longer to wander this Earth you care so much about, and you will be faster, stronger, and immune to human disease. Perhaps most importantly, you will no longer be Powerless in a Powerful world. But be very sure of your answer, Sidonie Martel. Remember, the first blow from my blade is irreversible.”
“I’m sure. I’ll take it.”
She closed her eyes, so she wouldn’t have to see the strike coming.
A thin, sharp pain pierced her heart. The pain grew into a gigantic wave of agony that reformed her flesh and bones. She would have screamed if she could, but she had no breath. After an eternity, it began to fade, until at last she could see and think again.
Panting, she looked around. She was no longer in the black and white hall. Instead, she was back in the great hall, on her hands and knees.
Morgan lay nearby. He still looked peaceful, but that would change soon enough. The shreds of his shirt lay to either side of his torso. There was a silver scar where Isabeau had stabbed him, and another one where his other wound had healed completely.
All the smells and sounds were a cacophony in her head. In the distance, she heard shouts and people engaged in urgent movement. From the snatches of what she heard, she gathered the foundation of the castle had cracked, and the Queen had suffered a terrible injury. The court was evacuating to the summer palace, wherever that was.
Reeling from the deluge of information, she clapped her hands over her ears. Becoming a lycanthrope would take some getting used to.
On the cracked floor beside her lay an open violin case. The ebony violin she had played for Death rested inside, along with the bow. The golden strings gleamed in the torchlight. Of all the instruments that were famous works of art, this one was the most exquisite she had ever seen.
And of all the instruments in the world, there would never be a more expensive one she could acquire. She had paid for it with an endless lifetime of service.
Carefully, as she closed the lid and latched it, she thought, I was broken, and broken again, until I became someone else.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Morgan stirred.
Instantly abandoning the violin, she leaped to his side. The boundless power in her muscles flowed effortlessly. That would take some getting used to as well.
Leaning over him, she stroked the hair back from his face, watching ravenously for every small shift in movement, every telltale sign of life.
His dark lashes lifted, and his eyes were cloudy with confusion. The Power his body contained… it almost made her reel. He carried a massive inferno of magic, and she had never been able to sense it before now. She had known he was skilled, but she had never suspected anything like this.
Frowning as his gaze fixed on her, he reached for the area of his chest where Isabeau had stabbed him.
“Yes,” she whispered, laying her hand to his cheek. “It happened.”
“I don’t understand.” His voice was gravelly, as if he had just awakened from a deep sleep. “I… died.”
“Yes,” she said again.
Leaning down, she nuzzled him. The last of the hunter’s spray had worn off, and his warm, masculine scent was intoxicating. This moment they shared was so fleeting. She concentrated on soaking up everything so she could remember.
When she pressed her lips to his, he kissed her, touching lightly at the skin beside her mouth, just as he always did when he awakened first thing in the morning.
Then he drew back sharply, nostrils flaring. As he stared at her in incredulity, she sat back on her heels. Letting him go felt like another kind of death.
“What happened?” he demanded, springing up to crouch before her. “You’re a lycanthrope!”
This time she didn’t bother to repeat an affirmative. The evidence of what she had become was clearly before him.
Whirling, he stared around the empty great hall. The two bodies sprawled on the cracked and ruined floor were their only witnesses. His breathing roughened. “I could have sworn I hurt Isabeau too badly for her to strike at you too.”
“You did,” she told him. Standing, she walked over to the violin case and slung it over her shoulder. “You also broke the castle’s foundation. The court is evacuating. Isabeau didn’t do this to me. Azrael did.”
At that, he spun to face her. “You spoke to… you saw Lord Azrael?”
“First I prayed to him. I told him we wanted to help him get his knife back, and I asked him to free you.” This was too hard to say face-to-face, when he was staring at her like that. Turning, she walked away at random, traversing the great hall aimlessly. “Then I heard him speaking to me, and… everything happened the way it happened. But Isabeau had cast the geas on you using Azrael’s knife, and the first blow from his blade is irreversible, so the only way to free you from the geas was through death. I didn’t know that when I asked for your freedom. By the time I learned, it was too late. You were already dead.”
She whispered, “He’ll never forgive me.”
“You did not ask for forgiveness,” Azrael said. “He’ll have life, which is what you begged for.”
“Dealing with you is going to be the death of me,” she breathed.
His answering smile was a blade. “Of course.”
Two tears slipped out of the corners of her eyes. “What do you want me to do for you?”
“You will control Morgan’s geas, but he will remain as leader of my pack,” Azrael told her. His green gaze gleamed with fierce light. “At the end of each year he and the other Hounds will join me on my Hunt. I always claim what is mine. Together we will chase down any souls who have sought to cheat Death. At this year’s end, we will have plenty of prey, as it has been quite some time since I’ve sounded the Hunt. As for the rest of the year, he may live it as he chooses. And as for you… you will be Death’s musician. Your music will be mine. Whenever you find yourself alone, and you remember what has happened, play for me. And wherever you are, I will hear you.”
“Yes,” she said. “I’ll do it.”
His smile widened. “A sacrifice made of your free will, with the gift of life made in return. My brother god will be pleased. Now I will offer one more gift, if you have the will to take it. You may become one of my Hounds, if you wish. The Hounds born of my blade are subject to no other leader. The sorcerer will command his pack, but you would be sovereign in your own right and may walk your own solitary path, wherever the muse may lead you. It will give you longer to wander this Earth you care so much about, and you will be faster, stronger, and immune to human disease. Perhaps most importantly, you will no longer be Powerless in a Powerful world. But be very sure of your answer, Sidonie Martel. Remember, the first blow from my blade is irreversible.”
“I’m sure. I’ll take it.”
She closed her eyes, so she wouldn’t have to see the strike coming.
A thin, sharp pain pierced her heart. The pain grew into a gigantic wave of agony that reformed her flesh and bones. She would have screamed if she could, but she had no breath. After an eternity, it began to fade, until at last she could see and think again.
Panting, she looked around. She was no longer in the black and white hall. Instead, she was back in the great hall, on her hands and knees.
Morgan lay nearby. He still looked peaceful, but that would change soon enough. The shreds of his shirt lay to either side of his torso. There was a silver scar where Isabeau had stabbed him, and another one where his other wound had healed completely.
All the smells and sounds were a cacophony in her head. In the distance, she heard shouts and people engaged in urgent movement. From the snatches of what she heard, she gathered the foundation of the castle had cracked, and the Queen had suffered a terrible injury. The court was evacuating to the summer palace, wherever that was.
Reeling from the deluge of information, she clapped her hands over her ears. Becoming a lycanthrope would take some getting used to.
On the cracked floor beside her lay an open violin case. The ebony violin she had played for Death rested inside, along with the bow. The golden strings gleamed in the torchlight. Of all the instruments that were famous works of art, this one was the most exquisite she had ever seen.
And of all the instruments in the world, there would never be a more expensive one she could acquire. She had paid for it with an endless lifetime of service.
Carefully, as she closed the lid and latched it, she thought, I was broken, and broken again, until I became someone else.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Morgan stirred.
Instantly abandoning the violin, she leaped to his side. The boundless power in her muscles flowed effortlessly. That would take some getting used to as well.
Leaning over him, she stroked the hair back from his face, watching ravenously for every small shift in movement, every telltale sign of life.
His dark lashes lifted, and his eyes were cloudy with confusion. The Power his body contained… it almost made her reel. He carried a massive inferno of magic, and she had never been able to sense it before now. She had known he was skilled, but she had never suspected anything like this.
Frowning as his gaze fixed on her, he reached for the area of his chest where Isabeau had stabbed him.
“Yes,” she whispered, laying her hand to his cheek. “It happened.”
“I don’t understand.” His voice was gravelly, as if he had just awakened from a deep sleep. “I… died.”
“Yes,” she said again.
Leaning down, she nuzzled him. The last of the hunter’s spray had worn off, and his warm, masculine scent was intoxicating. This moment they shared was so fleeting. She concentrated on soaking up everything so she could remember.
When she pressed her lips to his, he kissed her, touching lightly at the skin beside her mouth, just as he always did when he awakened first thing in the morning.
Then he drew back sharply, nostrils flaring. As he stared at her in incredulity, she sat back on her heels. Letting him go felt like another kind of death.
“What happened?” he demanded, springing up to crouch before her. “You’re a lycanthrope!”
This time she didn’t bother to repeat an affirmative. The evidence of what she had become was clearly before him.
Whirling, he stared around the empty great hall. The two bodies sprawled on the cracked and ruined floor were their only witnesses. His breathing roughened. “I could have sworn I hurt Isabeau too badly for her to strike at you too.”
“You did,” she told him. Standing, she walked over to the violin case and slung it over her shoulder. “You also broke the castle’s foundation. The court is evacuating. Isabeau didn’t do this to me. Azrael did.”
At that, he spun to face her. “You spoke to… you saw Lord Azrael?”
“First I prayed to him. I told him we wanted to help him get his knife back, and I asked him to free you.” This was too hard to say face-to-face, when he was staring at her like that. Turning, she walked away at random, traversing the great hall aimlessly. “Then I heard him speaking to me, and… everything happened the way it happened. But Isabeau had cast the geas on you using Azrael’s knife, and the first blow from his blade is irreversible, so the only way to free you from the geas was through death. I didn’t know that when I asked for your freedom. By the time I learned, it was too late. You were already dead.”
