Page 73 of Queen’s Gambit

Niersen’s expression grew colder; his gaze fixed on my face.

‘Stop it, Herald. Keep him tethered to your mind but leave him unharmed while our vivamancer behaves,’ the Prefect commanded, and the Light Fae’s face twisted into a snarl.

‘You promised me his life.’

‘Well, I changed my mind. Which reward do you want more? This assassin’s pain or the kingdom of Dagome?’ the Prefect asked.

Niersen trembled, his expression thunderous, but he nodded.

Irsha fell back onto his haunches. He was quiet, but the look he gave me conveyed his desperation. I gestured for him to wait. To give me time to think. Niersen was a mad dog, but at least the Prefect held him on a tight leash.

I turned towards the Tangrian. ‘What’s your name?’

He smiled as if I had given him exactly what he wanted. ‘Siras, thank you for asking.’

‘No augurec collar this time, Siras?’

‘There are more effective ways to gain your cooperation, Lady Regnav. Contrary to your impression of me, torture gives me no joy.’ He extended his hand towards me. ‘Come, your assassin is safe, and you need rest.’

This time I took his hand and let him lead me from Niersen’s bedroom. Before the door closed, I glanced at Irsha, hoping leaving him alone with a madman wasn’t a mistake.

‘Your friend can take a little beating. I doubt Niersen will dare much more,’ Siras said when he noticed my glare.

‘Irsha can take it, but if you think forcing my compliance and tormenting him will get you anywhere, you are in for a rude awakening.’ I followed him along the dark corridor.

My thoughts drifted to Tova. Was he still free? Not once during the entire exchange had anyone mentioned him. Between Niersen’s need for revenge and Siras’ cold calculation, someone would have used his capture to threaten me.

Maybe they don’t know? It was a possibility. When in good health, the dwarven mind was resistant to psychic manipulation. If Tova were still free…

‘I’m merely buying time to explain why your help is essential for my country’s survival.’ Siras’ words jolted me from my musings.

‘What?’

‘My people came to conquer Dagome and use its Aether to revive Tangra.’ He stopped, his shoulder briefly slumping. ‘But even though the Gate is working, not a single seedling has flourished in the desert. It may be deemed heresy, but after seeing what you did in Tivala’s castle, I don’t believe Aether alone will save us. We need a mage who can use it.’

I snorted. He spun towards me, causing me to stumble as his hand closed around my throat. Not squeezing, just holding while he watched me struggle.

‘What now?’ I groaned as the ornate frame of yet another painting dug into my back.

‘I’m not here to hurt you, Roksana Regnav, but I will if you force my hand. I hate mages, but I can’t deny what I saw—and if magic is the key to our salvation, so be it. I’ll protect you, even from my own kin.’ He paused, nostrils flaring. ‘In a week, you’ll stand before the Hierophant and prove you can transform the dunes into an oasis.’

‘And if I can’t?’ I asked against my better judgement.

‘Then you’ll die, mage. It would be a shame because I don’t want to watch you burn.’