Quill of Thieves

Chapter 16: Davina

Enraged sounds of pursuit clashed from below the keep of her fortress's tallest tower. Niklaus turned from the window, his light brows drawn tight across his damp forehead. A rough, dark stubble shadowed his high cheekbones down to his strong jaw and chin. It created a stark contrast with the shock of white hair atop his young face.

For a moment, Davina hesitated, struck once again by the beauty of him.

"It is time," he said.

Her tongue dried as thoroughly as the deserts of Demue when Niklaus withdrew his Fables of Monverta from the inside of his cloak. "It will work," she assured him as well as herself. "It is the only way to redeem us all."

Niklaus had always been softer than she, but his jaw set. Davina watched, heart beating in her throat, as he called on Air's threads with his nimble fingers and shoved them towards the door. The force barricaded them just as a series of thuds sounded on the opposite side. It would not hold for long against the Light of the fae.

"Now, Davi! Bring me the quill."

With the meager connection to the elements she held, Davina found the correct thread of Earth and shoved it out of the way. A small piece of the floor beneath them shuddered and cracked, revealing a shallow hole in its surface. Davina reached her hand into it and retrieved the hidden quill. Armed with this particular one, the two of them had performed some miraculous feats.

But this one would be the most fateful of them all.

She rushed to Niklaus's side and placed it in his awaiting hand.

Their fingers brushed. Before she allowed herself to pull away, Niklaus flipped her hand over in his and placed his lips against the back of her skin. His breath was hot, and his eyes remained dark and deep on her face as he whispered, "I am sorry, Davi, my love."

And then he slashed the sharp tip of the quill against the vein of his wrist, drawing blood, and slammed it into his book—

Memories of Niklaus's screams yanked Davina from a restless sleep.

The same feeling of wrongness that had drowned her that pivotal, final day with Niklaus filled her with unease now.

Something had happened.

Davina ignored the sharp pounding of her headache and draped her legs over the side of her bed. It was a pain she had grown accustomed to since she had been a young girl. These headaches always followed an overexertion of her tenuous connection to the elemental threads. She must have pushed them too hard last night.

Last night.

A poised grin flickered across her features when she spotted her lady-in-waiting in a fallen heap on the floor. Even though she knew her maid still breathed, Davina knelt beside her and felt for a pulse. Just to further insure the plan had gone accordingly.

It had.

The poor girl was nothing worse than asleep, unroused by any of the happenings around her prone form.

Davina hurried to her wardrobe, one ear trained on any sounds from beyond her doors of which there were none. Pleased, she grabbed the rare dark cloak from its hook—she had always been more fond of brighter garments—and draped it over her shoulders. One hand drew up the heavy hood as the other pushed aside her favorite gowns until her fingers brushed up against that which she sought. A small, metal hook, like the one from which her cloak had hung, sat inlaid into the back of the wardrobe. Except this hook was bare and there was no true ending to her wardrobe.

Her headache thrashed in her skull as she felt for that metal's Earthen thread and twisted her hand. That minor motion alone left her near breathless, so she inhaled a fresh one and grinned at what she smelled. Since metals belonged to the Earth, a scent of damp soil invaded the enclosed space until the hook clicked into place and the back of her wardrobe swung open into a dark passageway.

There was no need to bother with a torch, for she would know the way even if she were blinded as severely as the Scribes were now mute.

The narrow path led her down through her fortress walls but she paused at a small, grated vent. Soft gusts of fresh air filtered through from the Halorian Square, and she peered down into it. Her pleasure stuck in her throat.

It was lit up like a beacon. A shower of light cascaded down onto the square from the topmost tower of her keep. From beyond the fortress walls, Halorians began to awaken, their shouts and cries crashing into the night. Shivers danced their way down her arms even from beneath her warm cloak.

Satisfaction warred with an undeniable sense of jealousy that it hadn't been Davina herself who had accomplished that light.

Regardless, she knew what her next role was to play in it all.

Our time has come, my love.

Davina turned away from the elemental display even though the hairs on her neck stood at attention. They sensed the long awaited magic that burst from her keep and into Rainier, felt the shift in the air as her people had their stolen truths returned to him.

Our antiquated curse is nearly broken, Niklaus.

She picked up her pace, delving deeper into the depths of Mount Halum, only slowing once the confined path opened into a wide, round cavern. Her hand pressed to her racing heart, urging her connection to the elements to hold out, to remain. She knelt in the center of the circle, placing a trembling hand over a mound of earth and vines, old stones and debris from the years. Forcing the pain in her head to clear, she found the correct thread and dug it out.

The mound opened, a long, wooden box emerging from it.

I did this all for you.

This was it. The moment she had both dreaded and craved. For inside that box lay a quill. The quill. The original. The desired. The lost that she and Niklaus had found. The quill on which her future would forever be intertwined. It was known to be indestructible, its life-source independent from the seven elements and their touch. Unlike the mere replicas forged by Soleitian priestesses. It would not break. It could not bend. Elemental threads could not be used against it.

In this box, the Black Quill still remained, despite the magic Rainier had lived without for twenty years.

It was always for you.

The lid creaked open on rusted hinges. Davina held her breath, her brain thumping in time with her rapid pulse—

Davina screamed.

The boxed tomb was empty. Nothing but flakes of ash left in the space she had laid her beloved's quill upon his loss two decades earlier. Always for you.

It had not been real.

The box smashed against the cavern wall, pieces of it raining down around her like the parts of her broken soul.

Her screams turned to rage.

He had lied to her.

Niklaus's final words taunted her now: I am sorry, Davi, my love.

_ _ _

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