“So it has.” He corked the bottle, and the moment broke. “I guess this concludes our impromptu party.”
“I guess it does.” Kal was suddenly aware of how late it had grown. “I should get back.”
“Same time next week?”
She smiled regretfully. “To be honest, I doubt it.”
His face clouded. “I’ll be here. Come if you can, but I don’t want to cause you more trouble.” Before she could answer, he caught her hand and kissed the inside of her wrist. “Happy birthday, Kyra.”
Her pulse fluttered as they said goodbye in the rain, then walked in opposite directions. Kal looked back once to see Levi’s black coat disappearing around the corner.
Chapter 23
Cathrynne
On the thirteenth day of her captivity, Markus didn’t turn up. Breakfast came and went with no food, and then lunchtime.
Cathrynne mended the chair by stacking books about the Sinn under the missing leg. She sat and waited. The squirrel dug up its acorn and scampered to the oak tree. The robin plucked a worm from the ground. Clouds moved in and the late morning drizzle arrived.
She watched the illusion unspool with a growling stomach.
If he thought he could starve her into submission, he was in for a surprise. She’d often been sent to bed hungry in her first years of cypher training, not only for refusing to answer to the grace name “Serenity” but for other infractions as well. She could go without eating for days.
Surely someone must be looking for her by now. If Gavriel was awake, he would mount a search. Even if he was still recovering, Yarl would be trying to locate her. And Mercy . . .
Cathrynne drew a taut breath, forcing her fists to unclench. Mercy had the kaldurite stone. She would be safe from spells. It would take her a while to walk to Arjevica, but once she arrived at the chapter house and found Cathrynne missing, she would demand an investigation.
The only problem is that Cathrynne had no idea where in the world she was being held?—
The creak of the wooden bar lifting was the only warning she had. The door was flung open by a witch with black hair cut ruler-straight to her shoulders. She had pale skin and broad, high cheekbones. Her onyx eyes fixed on Cathrynne with cold assessment, like a butcher eyeing a carcass. A moment later, invisible bonds pinned her arms to her sides. Cathrynne felt herself lifted up like a puppet on strings.
“Markus is too gentle with you,” the witch said.
Her gaze sliced to the windows. Cathrynne struggled wildly, but the bonds only tightened, squeezing her ribs until black spots danced at the edges of her vision.
“I prefer more direct methods.”
The windows flew open and Cathrynne floated toward them. The pressure around her chest eased just enough to allow her to draw a shallow breath before she was outside, suspended in midair.
The idyllic country estate vanished. She hung hundreds of cubits above a rocky gorge, the house clinging to the edge of a sheer cliff face. Far below, a river wound like a silver thread between stony banks. Icy wind tore at her clothes.
Slowly, the witch rotated her until she hung upside-down. Blood rushed to her head, pounding behind her eyes.
“The sweven,” the witch said, her voice booming inside Cathrynne’s mind. “Give your consent or I’ll let you fall.”
Her heart flailed against her ribs like a trapped animal. Cypher training had prepared her for many things—but not this utter helplessness. Yet she would rather die on the rocks below than spend the rest of her days looking through the bars of a kloster cell.
“No!” she screamed.
For an endless minute, she dangled there, gasping desperately for breath. At last, the witch’s bitter voice came again. “Then you’re of no use to me.”
The magical bonds released.
Cathrynne plummeted. A scream tore from her throat. The gorge walls blurred, the river rushed toward her?—
She landed on something solid, knocking the breath from her lungs. Carpet ground into her cheek. She smelled the familiar scent of beeswax.
She was back in her gilded prison, sprawled on the floor, shaking uncontrollably.
