The Child Prince (The Artifactor) (59 page)

Bel took a half-step back, easing off the pressure he had put on, and Sullivan gulped in a breath for air as if he were climbing out of a deep well. “You’ll help me,” Bel told him easily. “If you wish to live, you’ll help me, and you’ll do it today.”

Sullivan bobbed his head several times, like a broken toy, babbling assurances, agreeing to do anything the prince wanted.

“Good,” Bel praised as if speaking to a pet.

“B-but Highness,” Sullivan’s tongue darted out to moisten dry lips, “She’s very p-powerful, it’d dangerous to go up against her—”

“I’ll handle her.” Bel said this in a dismissive way that suggested she didn’t pose any real threat to him. “Your job is to simply contact her and get her here. I’ll take it from there.”

Sullivan didn’t look at all convinced by this, and he still eyed the door longingly under his lashes, as if he would make a break for it if he could figure out where to escape
to
. But he nodded again, obedient and cowed. “Yes, yes, of course, Your Highness.”

Bel nodded to Kip. “Morgan, go with him.”

With a nod of agreement, Kip grabbed the man’s arm and hauled him out of the room. “Now, Sullivan, let’s talk specifics on how to contact her, shall we?” he asked pleasantly as the door shut behind them.

As soon as they were alone, Bel heaved out a long breath. “Phew! I can’t believe that went so well.”

Neither could she. Yes, they’d intended for Bel to intimidate the man, but she’d also anticipated that she would have to step in and help at some point. “So if Kip taught you how to be charming, who taught you how to be intimidating?”

“Baby, who else?”

~ ~ ~

Lady Aldena Verlinden, like most noblewomen, couldn’t go anywhere quickly. She did send back a reply to Sullivan’s message saying that she would arrive that evening, and gave an approximate time. They had more or less expected her to wait for the cover of darkness anyway, and so they spent the rest of that time in the private dining room, waiting. Holly didn’t mind this one bit—she kept coming in and checking on them, bringing all sorts of food with her. At one point, when she had a slow crowd outside, she came in and asked Bel to tell her the full story of how his curse was broken. After retelling this tale so many times, he could say it now with a polished air, and the matron listened, spell-bound. Her husband came in twice as well, once just to meet the prince, but another time to assure him that if something
did
go wrong, he’d rounded up a few bouncers just in case.

Aside from the fact that Bel himself was a formidable swordsman, he also had an Artifactor prepared for the worst at his side. A pair of bouncers, no matter how strong, wouldn’t likely be much help. But the offer and concern touched Bel and he thanked the master with true sincerity.

Eventually, the hours wore away, and darkness fell. Holly cleared the food away, leaving nothing in the room but the furniture and three people who waited in taut silence. Sevana sat with her legs crossed, a wand in her hand and held at the ready. She glanced at the men, taking them in by lamplight. Kip sat on the other side of the table from her, for once sitting in a chair upright and properly, hands clasped in front of his stomach. He looked…quietly angry, eyes hard as stone. Bel stood with his back to the wall, remaining almost perfectly still, like a great predator cat that waited for its prey to approach. But every now and again, his hand would come up and touch the hilt of his sword, briefly gripping before releasing. At first Sevana thought it a nervous fidget. But he didn’t look nervous. He had the same stony hardness in his expression that Kip did…like rage boiled just under the surface, waiting to be unleashed.

“Sevana.”

She started at hearing her name, Bel’s voice sounding almost thunderously loud in this graveyard silence. “Yes?”

“Don’t curse her the moment she walks in. But do make sure that she can’t get out of this room.”

“I know.” They would need to question her, to find out who else had been part of this plan. The whole point of luring her here was to discover if she had any accomplices.

Taut seconds ticked by. They all jumped when a knock sounded on the door.

“Enter,” Kip answered, automatically standing.

Holly opened the door without a word, stepping aside so a hooded figure could step into the room. The innkeeper looked up just enough to catch Sevana’s eyes, looking for reassurance, which she gave with a slight dip of the head. Satisfied, the matron stepped back out, closing the door firmly behind her.

“Wait, who are—” Verlinden managed before Sevana raised her wand and pointed it squarely at the door.

“LOKKTE!” she commanded firmly. The door lit up in a brief flash of dark grey, and then a film covered it from floor to ceiling, making it look as if it were underwater. “Alright, Bel, it’s escape-proof.”

“My thanks.” Bel took two steps forward, boots striking the wooden floor in a haunting echo. “Lady Aldena Verlinden, do you know who I am?”

With shaking hands, the woman reached up and pushed back her hood, revealing her face. She had probably been a great beauty, once, before time and ugly ambition aged her. Now deep lines carved around her mouth and eyes, so that even though her dark hair had been carefully arranged in a cascade of curls, and she wore an impeccably fashionable dress, she still had the appearance of an evil hag. “I do, Your Highness,” she answered, voice wavering slightly. Cornered, without any chance of retreat, the woman lifted her chin in a haughty manner and instead stood her ground. “You’ve grown. Unexpectedly so.”

“No magic in this world is absolute. It can all be undone.” He responded as if this were a polite conversation instead of an interrogation. “Fortunately for me, that is. Not so fortunate for you. Lady Verlinden, your days of freedom and power have come to an abrupt end.”

Her eyes spoke of pure, primal fear, but she still shot back scathingly, “And what do you plan to do? You can’t prosecute me—you have no power in Windamere!”

“A situation that shall be reversed very shortly,” he assured her quietly. “But no, I have no plans to take you to a formal court for this. You directly attacked the royal family. The consequences for that action are quite clear and I have been given the authority by my father to act in his Voice.”

Verlinden took a step backwards, knees weak, as a tremor shook her from head to toe. The man in front of her could do absolutely anything he wished with impunity and she had no way to stop him. This time, when she asked the question, her voice was a threadbare whisper. “What do you plan to do?”

Bel waved a hand, introducing calmly, “This is Artifactor Sevana Warran. You know her, or at least know of her, I’m sure. She’s going to cast a spell on you momentarily to turn you into a frog.”

The noblewoman stared at him with bulging eyes. After a long moment, she managed to croak, “A frog? Are you in jest?”

“I am not.” Bel’s smile looked downright evil. “She’s always wanted to try it, you see, and I promised her she could. You will stay a frog until my father and I regain our seat of power and we are able to deal with you properly. Now, Lady Verlinden, here is the crux of the matter, as it were: if you answer my questions, I promise that the spell will be reversed and you will return to your human form in the near future. If, however, you do not answer my questions, then you will
stay
a frog for the remainder of your days.”

Without waiting to be prompted, Sevana lifted her wand and spoke simply, “GABOFOZATA NE FOLE. The spell I just put on you is a truth spell. I advise choosing your words carefully.”

Bel’s threat couldn’t have been better chosen. Appearance and position meant everything to this woman. The idea of being a lowly, scum-sucking pond frog for the rest of her days was beyond horrifying. She didn’t do more than swallow once, hard, before caving in to the threat. “What do you wish to know?”

“Who helped you plan this?”

Verlinden shook her head in jerky motions. “No one. I alone conceived the plan.”

Bel’s eyes flickered to Sevana, checking if that were the truth or not. “She’ll light up in a bright red if she lies,” Sevana explained briefly.

“Ah.” Bel continued his interrogation with unnatural calmness. “Who knew of it?”

“No one,” Verlinden whispered. “I didn’t tell anyone.”

Sevana felt vaguely surprised by this. They’d always assumed the Council was somehow behind the attacks, but apparently that wasn’t the case. They were just guilty of taking advantage of the situation instead. Although, really, not speaking about it at all had been a wise move on Verlinden’s part. The more people she had told, the more risk she ran, after all.

“Who suspected?” Bel inquired, not giving her any quarter.

At this, she hesitated. “No one ever asked me anything. I think…I think my husband might have suspected I’d done something. But he never asked me where such a large sum of money went to.”

Of course, the man probably had figured it out and decided it wiser to not ever confirm his wife’s criminal dealings.

“Who else?”

She shook her head. “I don’t think anyone else even thought to suspect me.”

That might very well be true. Noblemen tended to think of their wives as trophies or elaborate decoration and little more. That she could hatch and pull off such a scheme would be unthinkable to them.

Bel did nothing more than gave a single nod and say, “I see. I think I know your motivations but I wish to be sure. Why did you curse us?”

Verlinden wet her lips, nervously, unable to meet his eyes. “The clause in the betrothal agreement. The one that spoke of what would happen to the Council after your death.”

“The betrothal agreement.” Bellomi gave a hollow laugh, the sound completely absent of all mirth. It sent a chill up Sevana’s spine to hear it. She’d never seen a man so angry that it radiated from him in almost visible waves.

Morgan dared to take a half step forward. “Bel?”

“The thrice-benighted betrothal agreement has done nothing but bring my entire family grief.” Bel’s expression tightened as he tried to keep a lid on his temper, but it leaked out through his tone instead, making his voice harsh in an almost snarl. “I never wanted the betrothal to begin with. My father regretted it and would have found a way out of it, given a few more years. And yet, this was the very reason for her betrayal?” Stepping in close to Verlinden again, he loomed over her, making her shrink backwards, instinctively wanting to get away from him. Through clenched teeth he rasped, “Do you understand what I’m saying, woman? Your actions were useless, pointless, and did nothing but set you and your family on a path of destruction. If you had given my father just a little more time, he would have reversed his decision and broken that betrothal.”

Verlinden stared straight ahead, blindly, a tear escaping from the corner of her eye. She looked more shaken by this last confrontation than anything else that had been said to her. “I did all of this…for nothing?”

“Nothing,” Bellomi confirmed quietly. He closed his eyes for a long moment, taking two steps back from her and turning away. It took him a long moment before he opened his eyes again, but when he did, he seemed calmer. On the surface, at least.

Morgan dared to raise a hand and catch the prince’s attention. “I’m afraid I don’t entirely follow. What was it about the betrothal that would drive her to this?”

 To Sevana and Kip, Bel explained, “The clause stipulated that the Council would be dismissed when my children ascended the throne, thereby removing them from their seat of power. Turning me into an eternal child would ensure that would never happen.”

Sevana now understood his reaction. She was more than a little angry herself, now that she fully understood both sides. So much damage had been done…all over a perceived threat.

“I see.” Morgan murmured, apparently unable to think of any better response.

Shaking his head in resignation Bel asked, “Sevana? Morgan? Anything else you want to know?”

“The name of the magician you contracted with?” she asked instantly.

Verlinden shook her head before the full question could be said. “He never gave me his name. Even the informant didn’t know it.”

Sevana had more or less expected as much. “But you saw him, didn’t you? Describe him to me.”

“Kindian, unusually tall, head half-shaved,” her hand came up to draw a line halfway around her head, indicating it was the bottom part shaved, “oddly white eyes. He looked to be forty or so.”

That description could match quite a few people, aside from the white eyes. But the eyes told Sevana quite a bit. Eyes like those were only gained by doing one thing—forbidden arts. Whoever this man was, he dabbled in things that were not just criminal, but evil. “That’s all I wanted to know.” She glanced at Kip, but he just shrugged and turned it back over to Bel.

The prince had an undecipherable look on his face. It could have hidden any emotion from rage to resignation. Shaking his head, he looked to Sevana and requested, “If you would.”

Happy for the first time that day, Sevana swish and flicked her wand before pointing it at the lady. Verlinden had just enough time to falter and instinctively flinch, a half-cry formed on her lips, before Sevana said cheerfully, “TOADZATA NE FOLE!”

The transformation happened at a rapid pace, the aging noblewoman turning a bright green and shrinking down steadily to the floor in a smooth, seamless motion as she lost her human form. Her elaborate, fashionable clothes fell away and landed in a circular heap, caging in the hapless frog left on the wooden floor. The frog looked up in bewilderment, no doubt stunned by how different the world suddenly looked, and gave a husky croak. Without waiting, Sevana pulled out a small, glass bottle from the never-ending pouch at her waist. With a practice twist of the wrist, she scooped the noble-frog into the jar and closed the lid. “Captured!”

Bel took in a deep breath, eyes closed for a moment, before he opened them again and released it. “Thank you. Thank you both. Let’s return, shall we?”