Death Marked
Leah Cypess
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HarperCollins Publishers
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Advance Reader’s e-proof
courtesy of HarperCollins Publishers
This is an advance reader’s e-proof made from digital files of the uncorrected proofs. Readers are reminded that changes may be made prior to publication, including to the type, design, layout, or content, that are not reflected in this e-proof, and that this e-pub may not reflect the final edition. Any material to be quoted or excerpted in a review should be checked against the final published edition. Dates, prices, and manufacturing details are subject to change or cancellation without notice.
UNCORRECTED E-PROOF—NOT FOR SALE
HarperCollins Publishers
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UNCORRECTED E-PROOF—NOT FOR SALE
HarperCollins Publishers
..................................................................
Dedication
[dedication to come]
Contents
Cover
Disclaimer
Title
Dedication
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
About the Author
Credits
Copyright
About the Publisher
UNCORRECTED E-PROOF—NOT FOR SALE
HarperCollins Publishers
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The mirror shattered into a hundred pieces, a sudden explosion followed by a cascade of jagged shards. Ileni whirled, throwing her hands up in front of her face, but nothing hit her: no sharp pieces of glass, no sting of cut flesh. After a moment, she lowered her arms and crossed them over her chest.
The broken fragments of glass hovered in the air, glimmering with rainbow colors. Then they faded back into the mirror, smoothing into a shiny, unbroken oval.
“Impressive,” Ileni said. She had no idea who she was talking to, but it wasn’t difficult to sound unafraid. After six weeks in the Assassins’ Caves and three days as a prisoner of imperial sorcerers, false courage was second nature to her. “But since I’m the only one here, it seems a waste of effort.”
The colors flattened into a vaguely human-shaped form. Before she could make out the face, the form spoke. “Absalm said this was the only spell that could get through the Academy’s wards.”
Ileni froze. She dug her fingers into her upper arms.
The image in the mirror sharpened, revealing a blond young man with a sharply angled face and dark eyes. His grimly set mouth curved up slightly in the hint of a smile. “You were expecting someone else?”
Ileni tilted her head. “I wasn’t expecting anyone. Given that I am, as you pointed out, in a rather heavily warded room.”
She almost—almost—managed to keep her voice cool. But it shook just a little, and of course Sorin noticed. The slight curve turned into a real smile. “It’s good to see you, Ileni.”
She pressed her lips together before they could betray her with an answering smile. “How did you know where I was?”
His smile deepened. Ileni’s jaw clenched. “You shouldn’t be trying to contact me. You might have pushed this spell through the wards, but the imperial sorcerers will know it happened.”
His dark eyes narrowed. “Will that put you in danger?”
More danger than I’m in already? “No. I can protect myself.”
“I hope you’re right.” He leaned forward a fraction. “I’m glad you’re alive.”
Ileni forced a laugh. “Why, thank you. I’m glad I’m alive, too.”
“I wasn’t sure you would be.” He seemed about to say more, and her breath froze in her throat. He must know, now, that she had killed his master. He knew, and yet he had said, I’m glad you’re alive.
She hadn’t realized, until this moment, how afraid she had been of him finding out. Not because he would kill her—she should have been afraid of that, but she hadn’t been. She had only been afraid he would hate her.
Sorin shook his head slightly. “Things have been complicated here. I couldn’t force Absalm to track you down until now.”
“Force him?” Ileni stepped closer to the mirror. She was sure he could hear the sound of her heart hammering, but there was nothing she could do about that. She didn’t know herself if it was from excitement or fear. “I like the sound of that. You have been busy, haven’t you?”
“So have you. How did you manage to infiltrate the Imperial Academy itself?” The admiration in his voice was unfeigned, and Ileni was dismayed at the thrill that ran through her. She had left him behind. She was supposed to be past this. Even if it had only been three days.
Irritation sharpened her voice. “I’m not infiltrating anything. I’m not on your side, Sorin. Don’t forget that.”
His expression didn’t change. “How did you get in, then? What did you tell them?”
Nothing. I’m a prisoner. The truth twitched at the edge of her tongue. If she said it, he would save her. He would find a way.
Instead she said, “It’s not important.”
“Isn’t it?” His mouth tightened. “Do they know—”
“That I have no magic of my own anymore?” She got it out without a tremor. She was proud of that. “Yes. It’s not exactly something I could hide. Not here.”
A silence fell between them, and stretched too long. Ileni was acutely aware that she was finding it hard to breathe. Sorin’s black eyes searched her face, looking for—what? She didn’t know, and she also didn’t know whether he was finding it.
He seemed different, somehow. Just a week ago, he had been teaching her to fight and making her laugh and kissing her in hidden corridors. But the face in the mirror was inscrutable and dangerous. If even Absalm was following his commands, he must have swiftly secured his position as the new master of the assassins. He had always been a killer, but now he was a leader of killers.
“So,” she said finally, when she couldn’t bear it anymore. “You just wanted to check on me?”
He let out a breath. “Yes. And to see if you needed help.”
She almost laughed at that—or maybe it was a sob. She couldn’t ask him for help. They really weren’t on the same side. “I don’t. Thank you for the dagger, though.”
“You’re welcome,” he said, with a light bow.
Ileni had found the dagger in her backpack the first time she opened it on the mountain path; she had no idea how Sorin had put it there without her noticing, but she had stuck it immediately into her boot. It was still there, alien and heavy, yet comforting at the same time.
Their eyes met. His gleamed, like sunlight hitting black stone, and an answering spark lit in Ileni. She almost reached for him, as if she could touch him, as if he was right there in the room with her.
“Are you absolutely certain you don’t want help?” Sorin said. “If you need me, I will come. Once the imperial sorcerers find out you live
d here in our caves, your life won’t be worth much.”
She hesitated, wondering if he had seen through the casualness. He could help her. He had hundreds of assassins who were his to command. He had a sorcerer, who apparently obeyed him at least some of the time. All she had to do was say yes, and he would bring her back.
She made her voice firm. “They won’t find out. Someone will be coming to investigate any moment now. So you had better go.”
“I will. Ileni . . .”
Her voice emerged low and steady. “I’m glad you contacted me.”
Something hot flickered deep in his cold black eyes. His voice, though, was as steady as hers. “It was worth putting up with Absalm’s pouting, then.”
Ileni stepped back. “Don’t do it again.”
He didn’t say good-bye. His image vanished in a swirl of colors. The surface of the mirror turned black, darker than black: so dark it made the rest of the room seem dim, even though the glowstones shone bright. Then the blackness was sucked away into the mirror, and Ileni was left staring at her own reflection.
She had just a moment to note the stricken expression on her face. Then the door to the room slammed open and a burst of magic threw her away from the mirror and across the room.
Pinned against the wall, she looked at the black-haired woman in the doorway and said, weakly, “Karyn. Nice to see you again.”
Sorin stepped back from the mirror, keeping his breathing relaxed and even. Gray fog moved steadily across the glass surface, as if driven by wind. Across the black stone room, Absalm cleared his throat.
“Well done,” he said.
Sorin whirled to face him. The old Renegai sorcerer nodded at him, an approving, fatherly gesture.
Sorin kept his voice cold. “If you want to reopen the portal, can you?”
“It’s still there, yes. I could reopen it easily.” Absalm’s voice was gentle, patronizingly so. Sorin didn’t need gentleness. Certainly not from this man. “But why would we want to? There’s a reason the master never made contact with an assassin until his mission was completed.”
But Ileni was no assassin. She wasn’t even a sorceress, not anymore. She could die out there, alone in the Empire, and he wouldn’t know until it was too late to save her.
Sorin struggled to gain control. His feelings for Ileni were not just a weakness, but something worse: a sign of weakness. Among his fellow assassins—his disciples, now, at least in theory—many suspected, but few were sure. Absalm, of course, would be busy stirring their suspicions into certainty.
The best strategy would be to pass off his involvement with Ileni as a dalliance, a bit of sport. Or, better—as something he had undertaken upon the master’s command, an inducement for her to play her part. He had half-convinced himself that was how it had started.
But he had let her go. She was in the Empire now, with the master’s blood on her hands—and he had stood at the entrance of the caves and watched her walk away. He had no explanation for it. None that would satisfy Absalm, or the other assassins, or even himself.
He shouldn’t have to explain himself to anyone. He was the leader of the assassins now. But he was not the master, who had held absolute power in these caves for nearly a century. Absalm had been the master’s friend, worked with him, been privy to more of his plans than any of the assassins themselves. Absalm could undermine Sorin’s authority easily, if he chose to.
Which meant Sorin had to find a way to make Ileni’s presence in the Academy work for him. To make them believe it had been part of his plan all along.
If he could do that, he might not have to kill her.
“Ileni,” he said, “is a well-honed blade. And now she needs to be aimed at her target.”
“Was that the purpose of this conversation?”
Sorin tried to smile mysteriously, the way the master would have; but the memory of the master made grief twist within him, and he could tell by Absalm’s flat stare that the sorcerer wasn’t convinced.
“It was a start,” Sorin said.
“And how do you intend to continue?”
“You don’t need to know that.”
Absalm pressed his lips together. Sorin waited just long enough to make sure the rebuff would sting, then softened the insult with a question. “Do you think she suspected how we knew she was there?”
“No,” Absalm said. His tone was surly, but there was respect in it, too—real respect, not the pretense he had been displaying for the past few days. “That was excellently done. I don’t think she suspected a thing.”
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Lies spun in Ileni’s mind as she looked across the stone room at the black-haired sorceress. Karyn was wearing a loose white gown, and her face was even more grim than usual, which Ileni hadn’t thought possible. Three days ago, right before transporting her to this room, Karyn had made a promise: I will kill you if you don’t cooperate.
Secret communications with the Assassins’ Caves likely did not count as cooperating.
Ileni’s feet dangled several feet above the floor, and Karyn’s spell pressed her hard against the rough wall. She tried to think up an excuse—an explanation—anything to buy her time, to convince Karyn she was too valuable to kill. But she, who had lied for weeks to the assassins around her, was suddenly afraid that she couldn’t pull it off; that Karyn would see right through anything but the truth. As if, exhausted by the strain of constant deception, she could no longer pull up another lie.
She had told her last lie in the caves without even intending to, right before she had walked away, the black mountains a shadow on her back. Only three days ago, she had promised Sorin: I’m not going back to the Renegai village. She had meant it. But half a day later, as she strode down the winding trail with her pack digging into her shoulders, she had realized it was impossible.
Sorin or any of the other assassins would have known exactly which roads led to the Empire, and could have journeyed there with no more provisions than she carried in her pack. But Ileni had never been trained to leave her village at all. And that village was the only place she knew how to get to.
Even if it was the last place she wanted to go.
Ileni had a lot of practice, by then, in doing things she didn’t want to do. So she had set her face toward her village, promising herself it would only be a short detour, trying not to think about how she would explain why she had left her exile in the caves. Or—even more unthinkably—why she was headed into the Empire.
Then Karyn had ambushed her.
Ileni supposed she should feel some measure of gratitude to the imperial sorceress. She hadn’t had to return, to face her people after failing them twice. She hadn’t had to see Tellis. And she had been taken—magically transported, even—straight to the center of the Empire’s power: the Imperial Academy. The source of the magic that kept the Empire running, and the ideal place to discover if that Empire was as evil as she had always been taught.
To decide if she was, in fact, going to help destroy it.
Assuming the imperial sorcerers didn’t just kill her, this had actually worked out quite well. The trouble was, Ileni couldn’t think of a single reason why they wouldn’t kill her.
She had spent the last three days locked in a stone room, and as far as she could tell, only Karyn knew she was there. The fact that Karyn hadn’t killed her already was her only slim thread of hope.
She had only a brief memory of the encounter with Karyn, the two of them facing each other on the narrow road. Then Karyn had flung out her hand in a flash of violet light, and next thing Ileni remembered was waking up in this windowless room. It had taken her only a few minutes to sense the wards around her and realize where she was.
Since then, food had appeared regularly on a tray on the floor, and her chamberpot had occasionally disappeared and reappeared—casual uses of magic she had once
been accustomed to. But she’d had no contact with any human being. How long would Karyn have left her here if Sorin hadn’t forced her hand?
The magic holding her loosened, and the stone wall scraped against her back as she slid to the floor. Karyn lifted one hand, and blue-white light sizzled between her fingers. “If you helped an assassin breach our wards, I will kill you right now. So I suggest you explain what just happened.”
Fortunately, Ileni had just spent several weeks keeping fear hidden. It was instinctive by now. “Don’t be ridiculous. You know I have no magic left. I can’t help anyone do anything.”
“Every sorcerer in the Academy felt the magic coming from this room. Your presence here is no longer a secret.”
So it had been a secret? Interesting.
“I wasn’t doing anything,” Ileni said. “Someone was trying to contact me.”
“Someone from the Renegai village?”
The sneer in Karyn’s voice made Ileni want to lie, just to spite her. Yes. My people can break your wards. What do you think of that?
But the imperial sorcerers still believed the Renegai were a backward group of ragtag exiles, no threat to them. If Ileni pretended they had the ability to breach the Academy’s wards, that might put them in danger. The assassins, on the other hand, were already perceived as a threat. And besides, they could take care of themselves.
“No,” she said. “Someone from the Assassins’ Caves.”
Karyn straightened, and Ileni was glad she hadn’t lied. The sorceress was now looking at her as if she represented a true danger. As if she was someone to be reckoned with.
That might or might not be a good thing. Reckoning with her could very well translate into killing her. But it felt good, in that moment.
“What did they want?” Karyn asked.
Lies spun through Ileni’s mind, some senseless, some unbelievable, some contradicting each other. But seeing Sorin again, even for a few minutes, had reminded her how to take risks. She smiled directly at Karyn and said, “I’m not going to tell you.”
“Oh,” Karyn said, very softly, “I think you will.” The blue-white light around her hand expanded, forming a crackling ball of barely restrained power.
