They didn’t.
Blinking back tears of frustration, Larajin stared up at Drakkar. Was his resistance to magic really so strong that he had resisted the combined power of two goddesses? Had her spells failed her?
No, she told herself. The floral scent of Hanali’s Heart still hung in the air, and though the glow from the locket was dimming, Larajin could still feel the warmth of Sune’s magic pulsing from it. The goddesses hadn’t denied Larajin their blessing-they’d just altered the form she’d expected it to take, just as they had at Lake Sember, when they’d granted Larajin a spell that enabled her to breathe water instead of to walk upon it.
They wanted her to cast a different spell, but which?
Drakkar leaned on his thorn-studded staff, staring at Larajin, his posture one of pure malice. A strand of cobweb still clung to his jet-black hair. Absently, he brushed it away.
“Well now, if it isn’t the serving girl from Selgaunt who likes tressym so much she became one,” he wheezed, sarcasm dripping from his voice. “What are you doing, so far from home? Spying, I’ll warrant. Let’s find out what you learned.”
Studying his staff, he plucked a thorn from it. He circled around Leifander, who stared dully at the wizard as he walked by, then bent over Larajin.
He paused, sniffing the air. The floral fragrance hung heavily around Larajin. Did he realize what it signified?
He glanced at the red glow that shone between the fingers of Larajin’s right hand-the one clasping the locket-and spoke a word in the drow tongue. A moment later, the glow faded altogether, but though the visible manifestation of Sune’s magic was gone, the magic itself remained. Larajin felt its warmth flow out of the locket and up her arm to coalesce deep within her, around her heart.
Picking up a stick, Drakkar used it to pry Larajin’s lower lip down but could not force open her clenched jaw. He struggled a moment, then wheezed a warning at her.
“I’m going to release your jaw,” he said, “but no tricks-and no spellcasting. Utter one word, and you’re a dead woman. Understand?”
He laughed at Larajin as she lay frozen on the ground, perhaps savoring her anguish at being unable even to nod. His fingers moved in a spiderlike dance across her jaw. Suddenly able to open her mouth, Larajin spoke the only words that wouldn’t cause her immediate doom.
“Drakkar, please,” she whispered. “I’ll tell you whatever you want to know.”
“Of course you will.” With that brief comment, he forced open her mouth, and jammed the thorn into her tongue.
Grimacing at the bitter taste, Larajin tried to spit the thorn from her mouth, but instead it wormed its way ever deeper into her tongue. Drakkar stared down at her, waiting for whatever foul magic he’d just worked on her to take effect.
She glared up at him. Drakkar had blasted Leifander’s mind, had bound Tal in silver knowing it was poisonous to him, and now was about to subject her to some equally foul magic, then kill her. She strained her eyes, glancing at Leifander’s drooling face, at Tal’s struggling form. Two brothers whom she’d do anything to be able to save-even sacrifice herself, so strong was her love for them …
…and Larajin realized the spell the goddesses wanted her to cast. It was the most powerful one in their arsenal-the one that had already turned Maalthiir into a lovesick fool. All Larajin had to do was get Drakkar to lower his lips to hers.
The thorn wriggled deeper into her tongue. Then, all at once, the pain of it disappeared. Drakkar, as if sensing his magic had come to fruition, straightened.
“Now then,” he wheezed. “What were you doing at the tower in the forest? What did you see and hear?”
“I saw you meeting with … the drow,” she answered, keeping her voice deliberately faint and weak. “You were … talking about … the plan to …”
Drakkar leaned closer. “To what?”
Larajin whispered. “I heard you say …”
As Drakkar cocked his head, Larajin offered up one last, silent prayer to Sune and Hanali Celanil. As she completed it, magical energy flowed through her, causing her entire body to flush a deep red and the floral scent to rush from her pores. For one brief instant, the paralysis left her-but that instant was enough. Jerking her head upward, she kissed Drakkar full on the lips. Then her body stiffened and became rigid once more.
The wizard staggered back, angrily wiping the back of his hand against his lips. His face twisted in an angry sneer, and he raised his staff, clearly about to discharge the full force of its magical energies upon her-but a heartbeat later, his expression slowly began to change. The sneer softened, then left his face entirely. His eyes widened, and his lips parted in a soft smile.
“Larajin,” he sighed.
Larajin closed her eyes, breathing a sigh of thanks to her goddesses. She gave Drakkar an imploring look.
“Free me?”
“Of course, Larajin, dear. Of course.” With a wave of one dark hand, he released her.
Larajin sat up and immediately kneeled over Tal, who was still struggling against his bonds, albeit feebly. He seemed too weak to speak or even to acknowledge Larajin as she whispered encouragement to him and stroked his brow. Out of the corner of her eye, Larajin saw a dark glint in Drakkar’s eyes. She instantly understood the look for what it was.
“You needn’t be jealous,” she told the wizard. “He’s only a … my brother.” She blinked. Why had she said that? She’d intended to say that Tal was a friend, yet something had compelled her to blurt out the truth instead.
The thorn. Like the one that had pierced her foot earlier that evening, it had vanished, but its magic was still strong.
Drakkar’s eyes narrowed with suspicion. “This werewolf is your brother? Who is he?”
Finding herself unable to lie, Larajin let the truth tumble out. “He’s the youngest son of the Uskevren household, Talbot.”
“How is he the brother of a serving girl?”
“His father Thamalon had a-dalliance-with my mother. Tal is my half-brother.”
“Ah.” The explanation seemed to satisfy Drakkar. He glanced at the slack-jawed Leifander, who starred dully back at him. “And the elf? He claims to be Thamalon Uskevren’s son. Is he your brother, too?”
Larajin blinked in surprise. Drakkar already knew about Leifander’s parentage? The spell compelled her to answer.
“Yes. He’s my brother too.”
The wizard merely grunted.
“Drakkar,” she continued. “You know I can’t lie to you. If I promise to prevent either of my brothers from harming you, will you reverse the spells you cast on them? Please … for my sake?”
Drakkar glanced briefly at Tal, then stared at Larajin, a look of intense longing on his face. “Answer one question for me, first.”
Larajin braced herself.
“Do you love me?”
“No.”
He winced.
Larajin had to speak quickly, or all would be lost. “Can’t you understand how it pains me to see my brothers like this?” she asked Drakkar. “Imagine how you felt, just now, when I admitted I didn’t love you. My anguish is equal to what you just felt, but at least you have hope, that one day, if you redeem yourself…”
She let her voice trail off, wary about saying too much. She wanted to give Drakkar the illusion that she might love him, one day. If she continued speaking, however, the truth would come out. She didn’t even trust herself to look at Drakkar, lest the thorn compel her expression to show what she truly felt. Fear. Disgust. Hatred.