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Iris stepped out of the tub and reached for a towel. The fairy had left the room, unsatisfied by the offerings it found in Micah’s bureau, but Iris was too antsy to sit in the tub a moment longer. She needed to get moving, to do something.
Not that she could go anywhere without clothes.
She would have had no qualms about wearing something belonging to Char. Even when she’d been in bed with him, wearing little more than his shirt, she hadn’t felt uncomfortable. She hadn’t even noticed until they were getting out of bed and she'd felt the air hit her bare legs. The fairies had changed her while she slept, and since Char's hands didn't wander, she hadn’t realized.
Because with Char, she felt safe.
She wished he were here. She wished Micah had never forced her to choose between herself and a church full of orphans. She wished he hadn’t taken what she’d wanted to give to Char.
The thought hit her like a blow.
Micah had violated and stolen from her, but he’d stolen from Char, too.
What would she tell Char? He would be furious. Livid. Not with her, but—
The door flew open, hitting the wall with a bang. Iris ducked behind the dressing screen, hugging the towel around herself as she peeked out, heart pounding. The fairy wouldn’t open the door like that, and it was too early for the maid Micah said he would send.
Micah wasn’t back, was he?
But the man rushing toward her had green eyes, not blue. His hair was black, not blonde.
“Char?”
His name escaped her in a startled gasp, and then she was in his arms, in the strong, warm embrace she’d longed to feel. She closed her eyes and buried her face in his chest, tears filling her eyes yet again.
“I’m sorry, Iris.” He nuzzled into her neck, holding her tight against him. “I’m sorry. It’s okay now. I’ve got you.”
Her shoulders shook. She wanted to tell him it wasn’t his fault, that neither of them had a choice, but the lump in her throat blocked all words.
“I’m sorry. I got here as fast as I could. I should have—”
“No.” She shook her head against his shirt. “No. Y-you didn’t… you c-couldn’t…”
He squeezed her tighter. “I’m so sorry, Iris.”
His voice sounded as broken as she felt.
She cried until the tears ran out, and then he just held her. He rubbed her back and kissed her cheek, and she leaned into him, feeling the solidity of his chest, the strength of his muscles around her. Feeling safe. Wearing nothing but a towel in a psychotic mage’s bedroom within a castle full of armed guards who would see them as the enemy, she felt safe.
A burst of warmth touched her elbow. The fairy was back.
“I-I should get dressed.”
Char kissed her cheek again and let her go. He turned away, running his hand through his hair and breathing out a sigh, and then he vanished around the dressing screen.
The fairy held a black-and-white maid uniform up in front of Iris.
Her stomach turned. She remembered the dream about her mother, and she had to take a deep breath to calm herself. The fairy didn’t know about the dream. The uniform was just something to wear. That was all. And really, what more could she expect the fairy to find in a castle? Disguising herself as a servant was a wise idea, anyway.
“I’m going to kill him,” she heard Char mutter, and then she realized her torn dress and the blood-stained sheets were still on full display, and her stomach plummeted to her feet.
“I-Is Rath here, too?” she asked, pulling the dress on as fast as she could.
Char didn’t respond.
When she stepped around the dressing screen and saw how angry he was, she stopped, hesitant to approach him. His flashing green eyes sharpened to a razor’s edge, the muscle pulsing in his jaw, the knuckles of his fisted hands white—every inch of him was wound tight, ready to explode at any moment. Iris knew he wasn’t angry with her, but seeing him this way still made her nervous.
“Char?”
“We need to go.” He stormed toward her and grabbed her hand, pulling her toward the door. “Rath’s on lookout. We’re getting you out of here.”
“But—I can’t go yet. The crystal—”
“Forget the stupid crystal. I’m taking you away from here. As far as I can go. Even farther if he comes after you again. This can’t continue.”
“But then it won’t end!” She yanked her hand free from his and planted her feet a stair above him, her eyes level with his when he spun to face her. “We’ve made it this far, and—and he’ll just keep hurting people! So many have died for this amulet—so many have killed for it. I have to stop this!”
Char grabbed her upper arms and brought his face close to hers. “I don’t care about other people,” he growled, enunciating each word. “I care about you, Iris. I love you, and I will not allow you to stay here with that madman for another second.”
She shook her head. “I’m not staying here with him, and if you think you don't care about other people, then you’re lying to yourself.” Her voice softened; her dark brown eyes implored him to listen. “You wouldn’t have given me a second glance if you didn’t. You know I’m right, Char. And even if… Even if you could turn your back on everybody else, which I know you can’t, you said it yourself. This is who I am. I have to stop this, Char. And I know I can. I know I can fight him now.”
Silence fell between them. He stared at her, working that muscle in his jaw, and she waited for his reason to win out over his anger.
Then his eyes left hers. They slid down her and back up again, and she blushed and pulled free from him, unease building within her. The feeling dissipated the moment his wide green eyes met hers.
“You healed yourself.”
She swallowed and nodded. He wasn’t Micah. He didn’t look at her that way, and he didn’t think of her that way.
“I can do this, Char. I have to do this.”
He took a deep breath and held his hand out for her, waiting for her to take it this time. “I’m still getting you away from here as soon as this is over.”
She intertwined her fingers with his. “After I say goodbye to Kayla, Fred, and Ginger.”
He turned and led her down the stairs. “Better explain to Fred that Rath and I haven’t been exploiting you.”
Iris stared at the back of Char’s head. “Did he really think that?”
Char glanced back at her and smirked. “Didn’t you see how he was looking at us?”
“Oh.” She dropped her gaze to the stairs. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t apologize. I’m glad he’s looking out for you, even if he is pushing the odds by trying to take on two fully grown men.”
When they reached the bottom of the tower, Char put a finger over his lips in warning, and she waited while he poked his head into the hallway.
Then she felt the crystal pulse.
She felt it thrumming through her chest with her heartbeat. Another heartbeat, another pulse. Strong and consistent.
She wasn’t sure if it was falling in time with her, or if she was synchronizing with it, but she took the amulet in her right hand and closed her eyes, taking a deep breath as she focused on the crystal’s pull.
“All clear. Come on.”
She opened her eyes and followed Char out into the hallway, but she stopped in her tracks when she saw a soldier. “Char—”
A pair of blue eyes met hers, bright and dancing above a familiar smirk.
“Pretty good, huh?” Rath asked. “Kelnor’s going to love this one. Impersonating enemy soldiers when he’s always saying we barely qualify as soldiers in our own army. Ready to go?”
Iris looked at Char again. She hadn’t realized it, but he wore the same soldier's uniform, too, with the same light armor as Rath and the same sword belted around his waist.
She shook her head. “We’re not leaving.”
“Of course we’re not leaving,” Rath said, confirming what she suspected. Char's impulse to forget the crystal and leave had been just that: an impulse. “We have to find a place to lay low for a while, though. There’s something going on in the throne room right now. Probably better to wait until nightfall and—”
“No.” She pushed past Rath, following the crystal’s call. “I have to go there now.”
“Uh, what? Char?”
“Just come on,” Char told his confused brother.
The whispers were crowding in on Iris, filling her head with excited chatter. She felt the crystal’s gentle pulsing, and then she felt Micah’s magic snapping and crackling. It made her flinch, but she kept walking.
“Iris—”
“I feel it,” she interrupted Char. “He’s in the throne room. He said he would be busy ‘twisting the king around his finger’ today.”
“Probably in war council or something,” Rath said. “Which means lots of guards.”
“They won’t be a problem.” Iris sounded more confident than she felt. She knew she could fight Micah, although she quailed at the thought of seeing him face-to-face. The guards? She didn’t know how to handle them.
“Stop right there!”
But she needed to figure it out now.
“Oh, good, some action.” Metal scraped against metal as Rath unsheathed his sword, stepping around her to face off with the pair of guards blocking their way. “I’ve been waiting to test this thing out.”
“Stop.”
There was a hardness to Iris’ voice Char and Rath had never heard before. Even the guards froze, their hands on the hilts of their swords.
“Are you loyal to the king and this kingdom?” she demanded.
They exchanged bewildered glances. “Yes.”
“Micah—the king’s mage—is plotting to kill your king. I’m going to stop him, whether you move or not, but I would rather not have to use force on you.”
White light was seeping through the cracks between Iris' fingers. Char and Rath exchanged glances, and the guards looked at her, then at each other. One gave a slight nod, and they both stepped aside.
Rath sheathed his sword, disappointed. “Do I at least get to stab Micah?”
“After I’m done with him,” Char said, his voice low and dangerous.
The glow from the amulet brightened the closer they got to the throne room, and that, more than anything, kept the rest of the guards they passed at bay. When they reached the massive, ornate doors, the guards again stepped aside for Char and Rath to throw the doors open. Iris strode down the red carpet without hesitation.
All heads turned toward her.
The king, a tired-looking man with long gray hair, sat on the throne at the end of that red carpet. Around him were men of varying ages dressed in robes or armor that indicated their status. Court and army officials.
And Micah.
His frigid blue eyes locked on Iris’. She wanted to turn tail and run.
But she kept walking.
“What is the meaning of this intrusion?” a minister demanded.
Iris didn’t answer, and she didn’t break eye contact with Micah.
He smirked and held out his hand. A blue spark appeared at the tip of his right index finger.
“Defying me again so soon, Iris? I shall have to punish you more severely this time. Now, tell me.” Four more sparks appeared, one at the tip of each finger. “Who do you want to protect the most? Because you can’t shield them all, can you?”
Five streaks of blue took off like lightning in five different directions. All five smashed into white walls before they hit their targets. The explosive force of the magic colliding knocked more than a few men to the floor, including the king.
“What are you doing?” the king asked Micah, climbing to his feet and backing away from the mage.
Five more sparks shot from Micah’s fingers, another five less than a second behind them. All ten met white. Men stampeded toward the doors in a panic, but they slammed shut with a single bolt of blue. Sparks flew in all directions, met time after time by Iris’ shields.
She hadn’t lifted a finger. She hadn’t stopped walking.
Micah’s grin widened.
Blue flames flared to life at his feet and rippled outward in all directions. They tore through Iris and slammed into a white orb. It surrounded the two mages, quenching the flames as they hit it. The ones licking at Iris’ feet remained, stopping her in her tracks.
“I don’t have to shield everybody if I can contain you.”
Micah laughed. “How long can you keep this up, Iris? You have already healed yourself. Your stamina won’t last much longer.”
Red cords snaked out of the blue flames, climbing Iris’ legs like vines and wrapping around her body. She cried out as they tightened, cutting through dress and skin alike.
“Iris!” Char shouted.
“Stay out of this!” The whispers were roaring in her ears. Her heart beat in time with the crystal’s pulse.
“What is going on?” someone yelled.
Micah laughed again. “This is my new power source.”
The red cords constricted. The blue flames rose higher. Iris cried out again.
“She has been rebellious as of late, but I’ll have her back under my thumb soon enough.” He closed his hand into a fist, and Iris squeezed her eyes shut, throwing her head back and screaming. Blood trickled down her arms and legs.
“Stop this!” Char shouted.
“Wait your turn. I’ll deal with you in a moment—after I force her into submission. I may as well depose the king now, too.”
“Th-this is treason!” the king stammered.
“Treason?” Micah laughed. “You’ve been following my orders for some time now. Mine. Not yours. But I don’t need you anymore. I don't need any of you anymore. The only one I need alive is Iris—to feed me her magic and provide me with an heir to continue my research.” His icy eyes flicked to Char’s with a challenge. “And I’m already working on both fronts.”
It was loud. So loud. The whispers crowding into Iris’ head, the pulsing of the crystal that had risen to an earth-shattering roar, the relentless pounding in her chest, the flames hissing in her ears, the frightened exclamations of the king and his officials, Char and Rath’s angry shouting, Micah’s gloating—she couldn’t handle it anymore.
“Shut—up!”
Blinding white light. A deafening explosion. Marble shaking, knocking everybody to the floor.
Silence.
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