Rosaliy

Rosaliy’s thoughts were tumultuous, and she needed to be alone with them. Every time Rosaliy thought Drake seemed on the path back to normal, she caught him staring at her, and then she was less sure. Of course the only man attracted to her was under a spell. Not counting Matias, anyway, which she did not.

She kicked over a useless, damp, rotting log. She needed dry wood. Even though Daniella was almost certainly tracking her, there was no need to add stupidity to foolishness by lighting a magical fire. She was already headed straight to Taragon, after all, right into Daniella’s waiting hands. How long had it been since Rosaliy had taken the masking potion? She had best do that when she got back to camp. In a while. She needed a break from the Drake she had accidentally created.

She was having to work pretty hard to avoid taking advantage of Drake’s new-found devotion. For example, even though she was sure he would tell her anything she wanted to know, pressing him for information seemed like taking advantage of a spell that was her fault anyway. Besides, every time he was confronted with his deep, dark past, he flew into a feverish panic. She wished he would hurry up and get back to normal. In an odd, nonsensical way, she missed him.

Dry kindling was easy to come by, but Rosaliy needed a decent-sized branch if their fire was going to burn for more than a few minutes. That search and stalling her return to camp took her farther than she should have wandered, but she was still roughly within screaming distance. Soon, she had a decent armful of twigs and dried underbrush, but she did still need some burnable wood, so she ventured a little further.

The sound of skittering interrupted her thoughts about what questions she could safely ask Drake in his current state, and her heart leapt to her throat. She spun to find a fat squirrel clinging to the tree trunk next to her. With a double bounce, it leaped onto a branch with a clatter. She exhaled a shaky breath. These forest animals. She was a walking fairy tale princess right now. To prove her point, the squirrel chattered and chucked an acorn at her.

“Thank you,” she sighed, as the squirrel seemed quite proud of itself. Really, Drake was admirably together if this was her effect on local wildlife.

A faint crack sounded in the air next to her. Tense with a reason this time, Rosaliy scanned her forest surroundings and backed toward a large tree. More cracks followed, like invisible popcorn. Gray fog rolled in, and that was enough evidence for Rosaliy to drop her kindling and take cover. From behind the tree she felt a gust of air and then quiet. Someone was here.

“Come out, come out!” a woman’s voice called in an accent that was thick and unfamiliar. “We know you’re here, tertiary Sorceress.”

Rosaliy pressed her cheek to the bark of the tree. Maybe it would absorb the sound of her madly beating heart. Surely anything with ears could hear the pounding for furlongs. The woman was too close for Rosaliy to run, and she had nothing useful. Even her dagger was in her bag back at camp, the little good it would do against a magical enemy.

Two male voices conversed in an unfamiliar language. There were at least three people here.

“She’s here, whiners,” the harsh female voice interrupted. “If you have a faster way to travel than the fog, I’d love to see it.”

“Tracking people would be simpso if they didn’t run from us before we got there,” griped a scratchy male voice.

Someone clapped twice and hissed, which seemed like an odd response until a large, dark animal bounded around Rosaliy’s tree, snarling.

An unbidden cry escaped her lips and she backed off the tree, her body preparing to run even while her brain said running was pointless.

The furry animal who looked a great deal like Pepper with a lean, snarling face blinked at her and relaxed, jowls sliding back into place over sharp teeth, expression in the yellow eyes widening from tracking of prey to curiosity, and flattened ears perking up. He padded forward, and despite this change in behavior, Rosaliy took another two steps backwards, running smack into another obstacle.

“There you are,” hissed the scratchy voice of the man behind her. Rosaliy spun to face a slightly pudgy dark-skinned man with short and fuzzy bright red hair. As he clamped down on her arms, she wrenched herself sideways and elbowed him hard in the chest. He doubled over, coughing, but the jaguar was not going to be as easily dissuaded by Sorceress Issabeth’s defense training. The black beast took up a playful crouching posture, ready to pounce.

Suddenly swooping down on her were a woman and a taller man with red hair spiked in a way that made the top of his head look like it was on fire. Escape was beyond impossible. The woman nodded to the tall man, and he lunged forward, pinning Rosaliy’s arms behind her back.

“I am so sorry,” he apologized a deep, rumbling voice. “I hope that doesn’t hurt.”

“It would make me much happier if you would let me go,” she tried.

“But then you would run away,” he said sadly.

“What is wrong with you, Ocery,” snapped the woman. Her red hair was long, thick, and wavy with orange flecks, more like lava than fire.

“Wrong?” Ocery asked blankly. “Nothing’s wrong. This Sorceress smells really nice.”

The woman stepped closer while the man pinned Rosaliy in place. Her face relaxed from a scowl to a half smile. “You’re right, she does smell—” The woman’s face darkened again, dark eyes flashed, and she barked. “It’s a spell!”

“It’s a nice one,” said Ocery, unconcerned. “Can we take her with us?”

All her assailants had deep chocolate skin garbed in bright, billowing clothing better suited to a tropical paradise than a soon-to-be evening in the border hills. Rosaliy knew who they were, but everything was wrong. If they were Flifary, why were they chasing her? The Flifary had always been partners with the Naxturae and the Sorceresses. They rarely intervened directly, but they had always been helpers to keep things balanced and keep the great evils—like the Malum and Queen Daniella—from succeeding.

The jaguar bounded forward to rub his big head on Rosaliy’s leg and gaze up at her lovingly. For the first time, Rosaliy hoped Serena’s potion was not going to wear off anytime soon.

The woman tossed a derisive comment in her own language to the other man who was still doubled over in pain. He was shorter, which explained why Rosaliy had such easy rib access. He complained back in their foreign language.

“Wasn’t she with someone?” asked Ocery, still holding Rosaliy’s arms pinned to her back.

Oh no. They knew about Drake. He was no match for three Flifary and a rogue jaguar. Out of the corner of her eye, she was sure she saw him there in a cluster of foliage, at least as sure as she could be while her heart was pounding and she was unable to get a direct look. She needed him to get away, but would the spell let him?

“No,” Rosaliy said, both to Ocery and Drake, “and I wouldn’t be stupid enough to travel with somebody stupid enough to jump in to be killed at the first sign of danger.”

“Let’s see about that.”

The woman withdrew a knife and stepped closer. No doubt about it. These Flifary did not have helpful, world-balancing intentions.

“You don’t want to hurt me,” Rosaliy said, trying to sound more confident and less like she had a question.

“No, I don’t,” the woman snarled, not lowering the knife or backing off, “and that makes me suspicious. Tell me, where is he?”

Rosaliy shrugged. She definitely saw a bush rustle in the fringes of her eyeline. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“The person you’re traveling with.”

“I came alone.”

“With two horses?”

“I told him to leave if anything happened to me,” she said. It was an easy lie, because she was telling him now. She raised her voice. “It’s too important for him to keep going. I need him to go.”

The woman narrowed her dark eyes. “I know how to flush him out,” she cackled, stepping forward with her knife and drawing it to Rosaliy’s neck. “Come out or she dies,” the woman yelled.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Rosaliy scoffed, though her heart was about to fly out of her chest. “There’s no one out there.”

It was much easier to lie for someone else’s benefit.

“She says there’s no one out there, Iketa,” pleaded Ocery. “Don’t slit her throat.”

The jaguar also whimpered a little. Despite their sadness, neither made an actual move to help Rosaliy. Neither did Drake, which was both a triumph and a cause for alarm. Maybe she should have reconsidered her desire to be left to the mercy of these Flifary.

“Dalor,” the woman who must have been Iketa barked. “Are you done dying yet? Search her.”

Dalor, still rubbing his ribs, hobbled over and glared at Rosaliy for a moment until the anger dissolved from his round face. “The Sorceress looks sad,” he frowned. He patted her hair gently with his dark fingers. “Don’t worry, Sorceress. We’re not after you. You’re inconsequential. After all this is over, you can live on our island. Won’t that be nice?”

With that, he shoved his hands in her pockets and pulled out the handkerchief.

“Our Sorceress was going to track someone,” he said triumphantly. “Thank you.” He beamed at Rosaliy like she had helped him on purpose.

“Who?” Iketa demanded.

“It’s mine. I cut myself,” Rosaliy lied, pretty convincingly, she thought. Especially with a dagger pressed against her throat and under the threat of being locked away on a magical island.

“Test it,” Iketa ordered Dalor.

He scowled, shot a tiny smile at Rosaliy, and stomped out of sight. The worst he would find was Corin, or maybe that Rosaliy was trying to track Daniella. Rosaliy almost wished they would track down Daniella. If anyone was a match for them, she was. Unless Daniella was working with them. What was going on?

“Where did she hide them?” Iketa snarled another question.

She? Them? Rosaliy said nothing.

“Don’t pretend like you aren’t working with her,” Iketa fumed, her face inches from Rosaliy’s.

“I don’t have to pretend anything,” countered Rosaliy. No, really.

“It’s from the royal family,” crowed Dalor in the distance. He rounded the trees wearing huge spectacles made of thick glass that made him look like a frog.

Rosaliy felt a cold chill. The royal family. Corin was Alexander’s twin brother. Why hadn’t she thought to use Corin’s blood to look for the children directly? What had she just handed over?

“Can you track it?” asked Ocery, still pinning her from behind.

“There’s some bad news,” admitted Dalor. “I’m only finding the original, plus a mess of faint lines. Only one strong lifeline out of the bunch.”

“Sure you don’t mean three?” suggested the man behind her.

“Sure I don’t, Ocery,” Dalor grumbled back.

“It’s Daniella,” hissed Iketa, saying the name like it was a curse word. Rosaliy knew the feeling. “She masked the Nax brats. Can you pick her out?”

Dalor’s unhappy round face clearly said he could not, but to Iketa, he stammered, “I’m sure I just need better tools to pinpoint a location.” Then his whole face lit up. “The Sorceress might know. She can help me.”

Iketa cackled, grinning broadly at her with shockingly white teeth. “This will save us a lot of time. Thanks for picking it up for us, Rose. It’s Rose, right? Pointless Sorceress of Crystal Palace, about as influential as a mosquito.” She could not have been too thankful, seeing as how she was still pressing a dagger to Rosaliy’s throat.

“What do you want with Daniella?” Rosaliy dared to ask. If they weren’t working together, that meant Daniella hid the children, possibly from them. “What do you want with them? They’re just children.”

“Just children,” scoffed the woman, leaning closer. “Children grow up to be adults who are the only thing standing in the way of—”

“Iketa,” Ocery’s deep voice barked in Rosaliy’s ear, “save the speeches.”

“You wouldn’t understand anyway,” Iketa muttered, taking a step back. Thankfully the dagger went with her, although Ocery still clamped Rosaliy’s arms behind her back. “You only live one lifetime. We live for countless generations. We should own this world, not hide away in a corner pretending not to be able to break you like matchsticks.”

“But you have a system,” argued Rosaliy, feeling more bold with a dagger a few lengths away from her neck, “a Seer who—”

“Keeps all the power for herself,” screeched Iketa. This was a touchy subject.

“I can’t think of any reason why she wouldn’t share it with you,” Rosaliy muttered.

“What if—” Dalor clamored with a rising, manic excitement. “What if she left it with this inconsequential Sorceress to confuse us? Where is it, Sorceress?”

“Where is what?” Rosaliy answered.

“The divination stone. Arlana must have left something behind: a clue, a message,” he begged, his dark eyes more than a touch desperate.

Rosaliy had no idea what they were talking about, and anything she told them was only going to let them keep the upper hand. Now that the panic of capture simmered down, her heart was starting to settle. Dalor needed her alive to track Daniella. These Flifary were full of information, and they were looking for the same people she was. If she could stay close to them, she had time to find out what was going on.

“Tell us what you know,” threated Iketa, stomping forward with dagger raised, “or lose your neck.”

“Do you have to, Iketa?” sighed Ocery. Rosaliy could have sworn he bent down to sniff her hair. “Her neck is so pretty.”

Iketa ignored him. “It’s been a long day,” she snarled, “and you have pushed me too far, little girl.”

Iketa brought the cold dagger up to Rosaliy’s cheekbone and sliced. Rosaliy flinched, but the belt did its job. The dagger slid off her protected skin without doing any damage. She tried to let out a shaky breath as evenly as she could and stare back smugly. She was not feeling particularly smug, to tell the truth.

“Sorceresses and their imbeioso enchantments,” Iketa fumed. “She’s protected.”

“Her partner can’t have gone far,” suggested Ocery. “Why don’t we head back to her camp and check?”

Since they could not hurt her, she could make things as difficult for them as possible. When Ocery tried to shove her forward, she slammed her boot down hard on his foot. Iketa grabbed her to assist and earned herself a bite on the arm. All things considered, her captors were in a very bad mood by the time they reached the ravine.

Leaving Rosaliy and Ocery behind, Iketa, Dalor, and the jaguar hopped up to search the camp. Rosaliy wished she could see anything, but her only view was a rock wall.

“Keep him out of that,” Iketa snapped to Dalor up above. “It smells foul.”

“You tell the jaguar he can’t have dinner free for the stealing,” Dalor argued.

Iketa yelled at the jaguar in her language, but she was only snarled at in response.

“Let’s see what our Sorceress brought with her.” Iketa’s voice floated over the ravine. She appeared after a second with Rosaliy’s bag in hand. She grabbed it roughly by the bottom and upended it, knocking Rosaliy’s supplies to the ground. “Food, water, dagger…” As Iketa named each object, it went flying over the edge of the ravine. “This looks important,” she said, yanking the cover off the mirror. “Hopefully it’s sturdy.” She pitched the mirror down to the ground where it shattered on the rocks next to Rosaliy’s feet. “Oops.” What she was not producing was Lillya’s book or Cade’s. Perhaps she was just toying with Rosaliy. She had to know they were magical objects. “Oh, now this looks useful,” Iketa said.

Rosaliy’s heart stopped.

Iketa held up the tiny fragment of net. “Now let’s see if I can remember how this—” She pitched it down at Rosaliy, and as soon as the net touched her, it grew in an instant and twisted itself tight around her like a vine. Ocery had the sense to leap back. Rosaliy would not have appreciated being bound up in a net with him, anyway. She tried not to struggle, because—based on her experience with what Issabeth felt was valuable tactical training—she knew movement would make the net tighten further.

“Yes, that was very satisfying,” Iketa chuckled. “Dalor, anything?”

“Nothing,” replied Dalor’s glum voice. “Her friend must have used an object to travel.”

No, Rosaliy thought, just very sneaky. If only he had more time to impart a few of his skills.

“He’s in store for a nasty surprise when he tries to run crying back to Athena, anyway,” Iketa groused.

That did not sound good.

Ocery called up, “We have this one. Let’s just take her. Dalor says she can help him.”

Iketa gasped. “She’s distracting us here, wasting our time. The spell—all of it. We’ve been played for fools.” After an additional tirade in the language Rosaliy could not understand, Iketa raised her hands. A gray fog swirled around her, and tendrils of misty gray shot out toward Ocery and Rosaliy.

The fog whirled around Rosaliy, somehow shooting in between all the spaces in her body until, all at once, she was no longer standing on a hilly grassland.