“I’m not keen to tell you. Once I do, you’ll have no reason not to destroy me.”
“Then let’s start with a different question. How did you manage to take the rest of the wizards’ marks?”
That was a surprise. “You don’t know? I thought you would’ve figured that out by now.” I forced a smile. “If you’ll give me my wand, I’ll happily show you.”
With his wand pointed at my heart, he stared at me, silent and thinking. He did that at Docendum sometimes, ponder some problem for minutes at a time.
I gestured to the sky. “Aren’t you afraid I’ll transform into a bird and escape?”
“You can’t transform into a bird. If you could, you’d have flown away from the castle when you had the chance.”
This would’ve been a perfect time to prove him wrong, but although I said the words of bird transformation in my mind, nothing happened.
“You can transform into a tree though,” he said, “which is no easy feat. Not many wizards can manage plant life.” He tilted his chin down. “Did you turn them into trees and chisel out their marks?”
“I got the idea from you,” I said.
His eyes narrowed. “Who taught you? Who?”
I held up one hand, a signal I was going to stand. Slowly, I did. “Before you decide to march me in front of the king and the other wizards, remember—you’re the one who gave me magic. The other mages will undoubtedly take your mark for such a crime, and considering all the trouble I’ve caused—perhaps slay you as well. However, if you let me take your mark now, I’ll spare your life and keep your secret. You’ll just be one more victim of the unknown traitor wizard.”
Ronan shook his head in undisguised disgust. “Ah Marcella, you’ve proven Wolfson right. He said friends were a liability, and this is how you used my friendship: To kill wizards and try to assassinate the king.”
The words hit me like a slap. I’d blamed Ronan for his disloyalty, and yet spoken from his tongue, my treachery seemed the blacker of the two.
My hands clenched at my sides. “I only took the wizards’ marks. They managed their own deaths without my help. And King Leofric keeps servants bound for twenty years. Did he not suppose his subjects would rather have someone else rule? Don’t blame me for what his greed has caused. Blame him for our suffering.”
Ronan scoffed, wand unwaveringly pointing at me. “You think killing an innocent man—your monarch—will relieve any suffering? A change of power will fill the servants’ bellies? Has it ever occurred to you Lord Clement as a regent might be worse? Heaven knows he hasn’t the wit or the sensibilities King Leofric has.”
“Perhaps Lord Clement will be better because he’ll see what happens to kings who take their subjects’ labors for twenty years.” My hand slid into my pocket and tightened around the yarn, hiding it in my palm.
“Is that how you justify murder—it will help you terrorize the next monarch?” Ronan gritted his teeth. “Who taught you magic? It has to be someone who’s mastered plant transformation. Thanks to your work this week, only a handful of those remain. Flitterwochen? Caltrop? Rattoner? Was it Perigee? Apricus?”
I wouldn’t be so easily painted a villain. “Can you speak to me of murder after what you did to the villagers of Colsbury? You didn’t care about their innocence, just as you never saw me as a person entitled to rights. I was a servant to you—someone who could be bought and sold.”
His mouth opened in disbelief. “You think I actually killed those people?”
“I saw the ash on your cloak.”
“As did Wolfson. That was the idea. I killed no one.”
“Then what happened to the villagers?”
He coughed, offended. “I had a two-day journey to convince Charles we could make some gold by warning the villagers instead. They agreed that burning the village would be for the best so that Wolfson would think they were dead and wouldn’t keep pursuing them. They packed up their belongings, took their animals, and left.”
While Ronan spoke, I’d worked a spell into the yarn. I finished the last utterance and tossed it onto his outstretched arm. It coiled around his wrist, wrapping so tightly that he dropped his wand and clawed at the yarn.
Retrieving my wand would take longer than it took him to break the yarn and retrieve his. I dived for his wand, not as a woman but as the black wolf. I would snap it in two if I could, eat the pieces if I had to, then go for my own.
Just as I reached his wand, a massive paw batted my head, knocking me away. The wand skittered across the floor out of reach. Ronan had transformed into a bear.
As animals, neither of us could wield our wands. We didn’t dare transform back into humans, though, lest we be torn apart by a beast before we reached our wand.
Well, then. This was how we would decide the matter. I didn’t want to hurt him, but he’d left me no choice.
I growled, showing my teeth. The bear stood on its hind legs, lifted powerful paws, and bellowed. His claws could slice through my fur.
I circled him. He turned, preventing me from reaching his back.