Broken Magic Page 8

  One of the guards closest to the throne leaned in to whisper directly into the Queen’s ear. But the acoustics in this room were incredible, so I could clearly hear every word he said in his flat, droning voice.

  “Your Majesty, this one told the mountain guards that she was a white witch on her way to the castle.”

  The Queen’s liquid black eyes widened and her face bloomed with fierce color. Her cheeks and forehead turned red with the rage quaking in her fists as she tightened them on the arms of her royal chair. The buzzing energy in the room swirled harder, chattering the teeth in my head and prickling over my skin. I wanted to run the hell out of here, just to get away from the sick vibration of all that power stealing the air from the room and swishing in my ears. I couldn’t touch it, couldn’t bend it so that it did what I wanted it to do. I could only sit beneath a pair of hands crushing the bones in my shoulders, and be victim to it.

  “Witches are the sworn enemy of this realm,” the Queen hissed, her eyes getting even larger, the black fury in them palpable. “Beheading is too good for the likes of you.”

  I was too close to hyperventilating to speak. All that churning, furious energy was making the air too thin and battering my senses. My chest heaved and my head rocked unsteadily on my neck as bursts of color flashed before my eyes. I felt like I was going to pass out. Only the hands on my shoulders kept me upright and somewhat alert in this constant barrage of aggressive energy.

  “If you truly are a witch that means you must suffer a witch’s death.” She smiled, but not happily, her pointy teeth flashing. The heart pendant on her breasts glimmered with some inner light that kept drawing my gaze. “Witches deserve to burn at the stake for their crimes.”

  The guards cheered at her pronouncement of my death sentence. My mouth bobbed open, and I wanted to protest—to plead my innocence, to curse her up one side of this room and down the other, but my words had dried up in the thin air.

  Guards took hold of my trembling arms and dragged me from the room as the Queen watched, running her fingers over the heart pendant gleaming on her bodice while her hideous, blood-red mouth rising into a vicious grin.

  CHAPTER 9

  ~

  MY ARMS WERE LEFT FREE this time, so that was an improvement, but my ankles were still chained to the wall. I hadn’t left this cell in what felt like days. No one had spoken to me since I’d been sentenced to death in the throne room. Guards had come to my dank little cell a few times to throw stale crusts of bread at me and the occasional cup of putrid, gritty water. But that hadn’t happened in a while. My stomach was an empty hole, and my head never stopped aching. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d eaten enough to satisfy my incredible hunger. I hadn’t washed in ages, and relieving myself meant hovering over a stinking bucket in the corner, next to the door. Curled in a ball on the stone floor, shivering for hours, I kept my eyes on the little window high above me on the wall, watching as the day faded into night and then back into day again. I wasn’t keeping count, but if I had to guess, I’d say it had been four or five days since I’d spoken with the Queen.

  I let my eyes drift shut, opening myself to sleep whenever it wanted to claim me. My waking hours were long and torturous. I was desperate for dreams of the other realms I’d traveled, the colors vibrant and the energy free-flowing, and always, at the heart of them, my parents were there waiting for me.

  “Alicia…”

  I could see my mother summoning me with open arms, her radiant smile and wide, green eyes a mirror image of my own. Was she calling me? I couldn’t remember the sound of her voice, but here she was right in front of me. I was closer than I’d been in so many dogged years of searching…

  “Alicia!”

  I opened my eyes, groaning at the ache in the bunched muscles of my back and shoulders. Unwinding my body with care, I stretched my trembling legs and arms on the unforgiving stone floor. My bones creaked as I engaged them. I sat up slowly, cradling my tender stomach. I was well past feeling hunger, but the emptiness throbbed, consuming my thoughts if I let it.

  “Alicia!” someone said in a desperate whisper that seemed to come from very high above me. “Up here!”

  Gasping, I craned my head on my neck to look at my only window. A woman was crouched down out there, her beautiful face filling the open hole in the stone wall. She widened her crystal blue eyes, her kind smile expanding at the sight of me taking quick stock of her. Her golden hair shone in the fading afternoon sunlight, rippling over her shoulders and pooling on the ground next to her.

  “Who are you?” I croaked. My throat was very dry. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d spoken to anyone or had more than a mouthful of water.

  “I’m here to help you, Alicia.” Her voice was petal soft and soothing. “Please don’t be afraid of me.”

  I scooted back, putting as much space between this woman and myself as the chain on my leg would allow. I couldn’t go far, but the short distance made me feel a bit better.

  “You are our only hope,” the woman said, her gentle singsong voice insistent. I couldn’t look away from her light eyes. “I have a gift for you.” She produced a small burlap sack from the folds of her cloak, letting it hang from the window into the cell.

  I frowned deeply, my eyebrows pressing together. Who the hell was this woman and why was she here? Everything in this realm ended up being some kind of dangerous trap, no matter how pretty it looked on the outside. The last thing I needed was a gift from some peculiar lady hanging halfway into my prison cell.

  “Whatever you have, I don’t want it,” I snapped, but without much venom. I sank against the stone wall, letting my weak muscles relax, my arms dropping onto the floor to either side of my body.

  “This might be of some use to you,” she said, and began to lower the sack by a glimmering string she’d attached to it. Once it reached the ground, she pulled once on the string and it wound back up into her long-fingered hand and vanished into the sleeve of her cloak.

  “Who are you?” I asked again, but the woman only smiled at me, her blue eyes never leaving mine.

  “Use it as you see fit, Alicia. We will meet again.” With that, she disappeared from the window.

  I didn’t move for a few minutes, expecting her to come back to the window. When it became clear she was gone for good, I looked down at the crumpled shape of the burlap sack on the floor beneath the window. I really didn’t want any further trouble, but how much more could I really get into? I’d already been sentenced to death. What was one more crazy twist in an already insane, involuntary adventure in this nightmarish realm? The hellhounds from the last world were sounding pretty damned good right about now. At least I’d been able to use my magic in that world.

  I shifted onto my hands and knees and began the slow crawl to the bag under the window. The cell wasn’t large, but the chain on my ankle didn’t give me much range of motion. Every part of me throbbed with pain, even my knees and the palms of my hands, making the going extremely slow. After only a little progress, the chain pulled taut, stopping me from going any further. The bag was still out of reach. I laid down flat on my belly and stretched out my hands, groaning with the effort. My fingers closed on the corner of the bag and, slowly, I coaxed it over to me. I pulled it into my arms, cradling the hard shape and breathing heavily for a few seconds before I could rally the energy to move back against the wall and sit up.

  I crawled to the wall, scooting with my legs so I could keep the burlap sack pressed close to my chest. I dropped it into my lap and tore into it, pulling out a beautiful mirror. The glass looked black from this angle. I tilted it by the long, ornate handle, staring into it to see my haggard reflection. Damn, I looked rough. I needed a meal, a shower, and a few dozen hours of uninterrupted sleep. But there were shadows in the mirror too, behind my reflection. I frowned.

  This wasn’t just a mirror. I could feel the strength of it in my fingers—a low buzzing energy that wasn’t quite soothing. That energy spoke to me, telling me th
at I could use it if I wanted. That it would move the obstacle stubbornly blocking my magic, letting me dip into that deep well within me and unleash all the spells I needed to free myself. I could escape with the help of this mirror. But the way it glinted, the glass flashing darkly, I knew it for what it was. Using it would cost, maybe more than I was willing to pay.

  This wasn’t really a gift, like the blonde woman had said. It was a temptation. And I desperately wanted to use it. I wanted to get the hell out of here. But I didn’t trust her motives. Why would she give me this mirror? I couldn’t rule out the possibility that she might be working with the Queen. All of this could be yet another trap, though I couldn’t imagine why her Majesty would bother playing such games with me when I was at her mercy.

  Looking into the mirror again, I searched those phantom shadows that didn’t match up to anything in my cell. In the corner, right next to the wall, I could see a small shape flashing just behind me. I hadn’t seen this before, despite days of scanning the small room for a way to escape.

  I turned curiously, and there it was on the floor—a small ring pressed nearly into the crevice where stone wall met the cold floor, as though someone had hidden it there for me to find. I picked it up and examined it closely. My eyes moved over the runes etched into the band and the bright, flashing opal set in the center The color shifted as I watched, going from blue-green to orange and yellow to red, the colors blending and swirling. Suddenly, a powerful surge of sadness, mixed with excitement hit me, and I cried out.

  This was my mother’s ring! I’d recognize it anywhere. I used to love watching the opal change colors whenever she wore it. When she and my father had set out on their last adventure, she’d been wearing it. Which meant they had been here, not just in this realm, but in this very cell.

  I slipped the ring on the third finger of my right hand, opening myself to whatever magic it might hold. My mother had used it to store her own magic, like a kind of receptacle, but it was completely empty now.

  “Oh my God,” I spat, staring down at it as my head buzzed with the overwhelming hope that now flowed through my veins. She was here! My mother was here!

  I looked at the mirror resting on my lap, the glass darkening as I stared at it. Feeling the energy moving through it, I knew that it could move through me as well, if only I let it. I could escape and destroy the Queen with this mirror. I could take over the realm myself, letting all that luscious power flow through me, the pulsating heart becoming mine to command.

  I blinked and tugged my eyes away from the glass. The opal shone on my finger with a deep, pure light. Using the mirror would cost me dearly. Just staring into it had almost been enough for me to lose control of myself. I couldn’t risk opening myself to that kind of power. I would just have to find another, safer way.

  Before I could change my mind, I threw the mirror aside, just wanting its dark, thrumming power away from my skin. It hit the wall and shattered, that murky glass falling to the floor. I could still see my reflection in it, my wide, desperate eyes and gasping mouth, broken up and distorted like a Picasso painting.

  Rapid footsteps sounded in the corridor, coming to a stop in front of my cell. The door flew open, revealing the guard with the fish-breath and jagged teeth. He sneered at me as he threw a crust of bread onto the floor near my feet.

  “Witch, the Queen said to inform you, the clock is ticking. There’ll be no tricking. In two dawns, your life will be gone,” he said, and cackled.

  I stared at him impassively and kept the hand wearing the ring tucked all the way underneath me. My shoulders were turned square with the door to keep the mess of the broken mirror concealed behind my narrow back. I wanted that bread crust, but I refused to show weakness or tears to this hateful man. When the guards came for me in the morning, I didn’t plan to beg for my life the way the mage had done. I was going to find a way to escape.

  The guard watched me for a moment longer, his gleeful mood souring quickly in light of my utter lack of response. I kept my face locked and loaded, just staring at him as he looked at me, not even blinking my eyes in case he took that as some sign of weakness. The knowledge that my mother had been in this cell gave me hope—and I was now more determined to get away from this castle than ever before. This was the first clue I had ever found in a world, and I wasn’t about to give up.

  The guard eventually got bored and left, slamming the cell door behind him and turning the key in the lock.

  I waited for his footsteps to recede down the hallway—there was a little window in the center of the door that they could use to watch me—and then scrambled for the crust of bread, taking a huge bite and leaning back against the wall to chew the mouthful. It was a shitty meal, but it beat nothing at all. With my head cocked back, I gazed up at the window. Night was falling slowly, the sun setting on what could very well be the last full day of my life. I took another bite of the stale bread, chewing mechanically as the rest of the light disappeared, leaving me in the chilly dark. When the sun rose again, shooting its light across the sky, it would mean my death.

  CHAPTER 10

  ~

  I COULDN’T SLEEP. I LAY awake all night with my back flat against the stone floor, staring up at the empty shape of the window, dreading the coming dawn. There was a way to get out of here. I just had to figure it out. Even without my magic, there had to be a way.

  I cursed myself only once for not unleashing the power in that mirror. It could have freed me, but it also might have led to my destroying everyone and everything in this world and countless others. I knew I could never allow dark power like that to gain a stronghold inside me, no matter how desperate my situation. Even dying in a heap of billowing flames was a better fate than succumbing to the temptation of dark magic.

  I decided that I would try picking the lock to the chains connecting my ankle to the wall. When the sun came up, I got started, stopping only once when a guard dropped by my cell bearing a cup of filthy water. I guzzled that and got back to work, stopping again when the light drained out of the cell completely, and my fingers were too sore to move. After a full day of trying to escape my shackles, I was no closer to being freed than when the guards slammed them shut around my ankles.

  My thoughts turned in stubborn circles, repeatedly slamming into the obstacle of that useless energy filling the still air. I turned my mother’s ring around on my finger until the skin was raw, wishing for magic that wasn’t inside of that shimmering opal. Its soft glow was the only light in the room after the sun went down. I lifted my arm in front of my face and watched that jewel sparkle in the dark, the swirling color changing as I stared at it, just as fascinated then as I was when I was a little girl. Had my parents died here in this realm? My gut told me no. But why else would my mother have left something so dear behind?

  ~

  It felt like only minutes had gone by since the sun went down, but light was already returning to the sky, and I still hadn’t come up with a plan that would get me out of this dark cell. I sat up, grimacing at the stiffness in my back from lying on the floor for several hours, but I actually felt better than I had in days. The adrenaline pumping through my veins had cleared my head and put a little life back into my exhausted muscles. I could do this. I could get out of here. I just needed to focus.

  Heavy footsteps echoing in the hall were coming my way. I knew it was the guard with the fish-breath. Over the last few days, he was the one who came to taunt me about my impending execution. While annoying, every interaction with him helped, allowing me to tuck away a lot of random information for later use. For example, skin walkers were ten times stronger than the average human. There was no way I was going to be able to overpower one without magic. But maybe I could do something else.

  I searched the shadowy floor of the cell, looking for anything I could use to get out of here—a loose stone in the wall or floor, a piece of metal, something. My eyes fell on the mirror lying untouched against the wall, its face broken into several jagged pieces. I grabbe
d one of them, sliding it carefully from the frame, and wrapped my fingers gently around it, turning my hand to conceal it completely just as the door to my cell flew open. I reclined against the wall, leaving my body draped on the stone as though I just couldn’t muster the energy to move.

  The fish-breath guard strode into the cell, alone.

  “Ready to die, witch?” he asked, sneering. He was dressed in the same black uniform as usual and his lank, greasy hair hung just below his large ears.

  I looked up at him drowsily, keeping my eyelids drawn low and my mouth slack. My heart thudded in my ears. Adrenaline filled me to the brim with so much anxious energy, I wanted to shoot up from the floor, screeching. Then speed past the guard, knocking him flat on his ass, and run out into the corridor. But I waited it out, readying myself for just the right moment.

  The guard leaned down to unlock the shackle on my ankle. The urge to kick him hard in the face, and then run was close to overwhelming, but I forced myself to be patient. I’d already kicked, scratched, and punched the guards with little effects. He pulled me up to my feet in an effortless motion with a single hand on my upper arm.

  “It’s a good day to burn,” the guard said, his fishy breath turning my stomach, which was packed full of nerves and not much else. He shook me a little by the arm that he still held in a vice-like grip when I didn’t respond. “Giving up so easy, witch?”

  I turned my head to stare up at him with my lips parted to draw his attention away from my hand, which was closing around the widest part of the glass shard from the broken mirror. I swung my arm around, never breaking eye contact with him, and jammed the thick, pointy end as deep into the side of his throat as it would go and pressing hard with the palm of my hand.

  His fingers loosened and fell away from my arm as I pushed the glass in harder, grimacing at the stab of pain in my own hand from where the edge cut into my fingers. His stinking mouth bobbed open, but only a strangled sound came out, as light as an exhalation of air. Blood poured from the gash in his greenish skin, so dark and thick it was nearly black. It burned when it touched my skin, the consistency more like warm jelly than blood. I sucked a sharp breath through my teeth, and snatched my hand back, dislodging the glass from the guard’s throat. The blood came out in a gushing fountain now, pouring down the side of the guard’s body and pooling on the floor. As I watched, the veins around the gaping tear in his throat turned dark enough to see through his skin—the inky trails snaking from the wound, across his throat, and up into his face, spreading over his hairless cheeks and forehead. The black veins swelled, getting darker as they stretched across the skin of his neck and face. He gagged and grabbed at the wound, the viscous blood oozing through his dirty fingers.