Enemy Of My Enemy (Price Of Power Book 1)

by Laura Stephens

  Her face lights up once she reaches us. “Hi there,” she says in a bright and cheerful voice. Leaning forward, she gives me a kiss on each cheek. This isn’t something that I’ve seen others do in this settlement, so perhaps it’s only a Rovente thing. She looks me up and down and purses her lips. “You look like you’ve had a long day.”

  I don’t need to look at myself to know what she’s talking about. I’m covered in dirt and small shards of wood that came loose from the crates as I carried them from room to room. I’m sure my face isn’t much better for wear.

  “I’ve heard much about you from the gossiping people in the castle,” she says before I have a chance to reply to her first comment. “I’ve heard that you are Violet’s sister, that you have no power, and that you’ve found a home with the Alchemists. Is that about right?”

  She twines her fingers in mine, leading me in no particular direction. Damon is hot on my heels, watching and listening to everything. “I suppose so, yes.” I don’t know how I feel about being the topic of gossip, especially when it’s not exactly positive gossip.

  “So I already know how the two of you ended up in Strega, but how did the two of you get to the human realm in the first place?” she asks.

  Seraphina is a fast talker, changing from one topic to another so quickly that I’m having issues keeping up with her. “I don’t know.”

  “That’s very interesting. There’s only one way in and out of this realm and that’s through the Watcher. Have you spoken to him? Asked him about it?”

  “No,” I answer. “I’ve only met him once.” I turn around, giving Damon a quick confused look, and I notice that Seraphina is alone. Roman went with Kaleb to gain information on Aetheries. Grayson is with Violet and Lincoln. “Why don’t you have any guards with you?”

  “Guards?” she asks with a slight cock of her head. “You mean Hunters? That’s what Rovente calls the King’s or Queen’s personal protectors. I only brought two with me and they are now occupied. In reality, though, I don’t need their protection. For one, Pensatore is not an enemy and there’s no fear of an attack. But even if there was, I am fully able to take care of myself.”

  Her sister wasn’t able to, but I keep that to myself. “Oh?”

  She gives me a smirk. “The destined ruler of Rovente is the second most powerful person in this realm, magically speaking. Second to only the Watcher himself.” She stops and looks directly at me. “Speaking of Rovente, you and your sister are part of my clan. In Strega, we like to keep specific abilities in their home settlement. Basically, elementals stay with elementals.”

  “I’m not an elemental though.”

  Her cocky smile fades. “In heart you are despite the magic not being present. Your parents would have been elementals as well, members of Rovente. Witches and warlocks are mortal, but it’s likely that they are still alive. If you and Violet come back with me after all of this nonsense with Aetheries is over, we can look for them. Perhaps they can offer some answers to both of you.”

  Up until the point that Vi and I met, we had very different upbringings. I had parents, adoptive, yes, but parents nonetheless. They loved me and I loved them. We were happy. Until we were hit head on and they were killed. With no other family, I was put into foster care and that’s where I met Violet. I haven’t considered what it means that Vi is biologically related to me – not until right now anyway. That means that we have the same biological parents and that we were both given up, just at different ages. My parents told me that they chose me a few days after I was born. From what Vi has told me, she was put into the system when she was 3 and she never left. If she was 3 and I was just born …

  “Sorry to interrupt,” Damon says with his chest puffed out, “but we have to get going. Plans.”

  “Right,” Seraphina says, almost like she’s annoyed. “Of course you do. You’re a popular girl around here.” I don’t know if that’s true. “Sorry to delay you.”

  She doesn’t bother with formalities this time. Instead of giving me the parting kisses on each cheek, she just turns on her heel and marches off, quickly getting lost in the sea of people.

  13

  “You’re not done,” Lincoln says over his shoulder to me. He’s leading me through the training fields and I’d logically assumed that that meant we’re done for the day and I was finally going to get to go home. Clearly, I was wrong.

  The first half of this session was spent with him almost drowning me, me forgetting that I even have an ability to use to defend myself, and me trying to zap the hell out of Grayson. It was brutal and my energy is at an all-time low.

  Lincoln leans against the three tier wooden fence circling around a sand pit. It’s one of the only empty spaces left in the area. I walk past the training fields each and every morning and there’s never been this many people. Ever since the brothers overruled Maddox, training has been amped up and now there’s so much grunting and groaning and the sound of metal banging against metal that I can barely hear myself think.

  Two days ago, Emmy forced me to go and mingle. Lincoln, Ben, Tessa, and Damon were there for dinner. Lincoln became an entirely different person than he is during training. He reminded me of the man who comforted me back at the gas station all those weeks ago. Emmy was Emmy and bombarded them with one question after another. They all seemed to be stress free and opened up to her which didn’t surprise me. Em has always had a knack for getting people to feel comfortable around her and spill their darkest secrets.

  Lincoln was no different. Apparently his mother – Ben and Kaleb’s as well – was from Pensatore. She was a pusher, the Pensatore title for a telekinetic. Career wise, she was an Alchemist. Their father was from Rovente and they never met him and she never spoke of him. It was that bloodline that made them into hybrids – giving each of them two abilities. Ben is a pusher and earth elemental. Kaleb is a water elemental like Lincoln and a ghost – meaning that he can go invisible. Lincoln, which I already knew, is a water elemental and a recall.

  Hybrids are abominations in the eyes of Rovente, something that Grayson has made all too clear over the past few days. If their lineage is discovered, they are killed. Sometimes, in the Rovente settlement, the mothers are killed before giving birth just because they reproduced with Pensatore. It doesn’t happen often these days, from what I’ve been told, because the two clans keep their distance from one another. The three brothers were spared because they grew up with their mother in the Pensatore clan. With their dual abilities, they are some of the strongest magic wielders in either settlement, apart from Seraphina and the Watcher. Emmy asked about where their mother is now, telling them that she wanted to meet her, but their openness seemed to close at that question and the conversation shifted.

  Grayson struts up, leaning against the fence next to Lincoln. This man is the bane of my existence. Lincoln can be a hard ass sometimes, but Grayson really grates on my nerves. He’s a know it all, someone who thinks their shit smells better than everyone else’s. From what I’ve been told, that is standard Rovente behavior. That is why the three brothers had been so shocked when Seraphina asked for our help. Rovente never needs help. They are the strongest and the smartest and they know everything. Evidently, Ben and Lincoln knew immediately how dire the situation must be when Seraphina showed up and told us everything. That is one of the biggest reasons why they decided to overrule Maddox regarding her proposition.

  “This is an utter waste of time,” Grayson mumbles as he crosses his arms across his chest.

  Leaning against the wooden fence around the sand pit, I try and ignore his whining voice.

  “I know this is uncharted territory for you,” Lincoln explains, completely ignoring Grayson. “I also know that the swords are much too large for you to handle with any type of precision and that’s okay. The importance of this lesson is familiarization and that’s it. Until we get weapons that are more suited for your small build, that’s all we are going to be able to do.”

  “Waste of time,” G
rayson says again, this time in a sing-song voice.

  I stare down at the blade laying in the sand, its sheer weight causing it to sink an inch. I shake my head back and forth. I’m a witch. Okay, I can accept that. I can summon lightning not only from the sky but from within my very blood. Weird, but okay. Someone giving me a sword…is insanity. Pure and utter insanity.

  “Until you get more advanced, the tip of your blade shall remain pointed to the ground when not in use. This is for your safety as much as ours.”

  “Using weapons of any kind is an embarrassment to this realm,” Grayson explains. “You are a witch, Violet. You were given an ability for a reason. To choose to not use them is a disgrace to that title.”

  Lincoln jumps over the chest high fence like it is easy then ushers me to join him in the sand pit. I take the obvious route and squeeze between the horizontal planks. “Pick it up,” he orders. “Keep it pointed at the ground.”

  I grimace as I bend at the waist, the hilt of the sword almost too thick for me to wrap my fingers around. It takes the strength of both hands to get the thing fully off the ground. “Now, bend your knees and raise your weapon to your waist with the tip pointing towards the sky.” Well, that sounds simple enough.

  A heavy sweat accumulates above my brow as I struggle to maintain the angle of the sword. Lincoln comes up behind me, placing his hands on my hips. His warmth immediately soaks through my leathers. With his firm grip he twists my hips, forcing me to change my stance. This position instantly feels much more natural, much more warrior-like. The weight of it quickly wins and the tip falls back to the sand.

  I can see Lincoln’s mouth moving, but nothing he’s saying registers. He lunges this way and that. His leathers creak and stretch over his solid muscular frame with each precise movement. Bending and flexing those strong broad shoulders… “Go ahead and give it a try.”

  What was he just doing again? I shift my stance, remembering how taut his pants had just were. With one foot in front of the other, I lift the blade tip from the sand. Thrust. That’s what he called this move – thrust. Which hadn’t helped in my distraction at all. Immediately after lifting the blade, my arms begin to shake from its excessive weight.

  Screw this. The sword clangs to the ground. “This is ridiculous, Lincoln. This things is too big for me to hold, let alone maneuver with. If you want to see what I’m able to do, then give me something I can actually work with!” I run over towards him, pulling a knife from his belt. Then I hurl it at a nearby target dummy propped up outside the sand pit. The knife buries itself into the dummy’s head, having missed Lincoln’s ear by less than an inch.

  His head bounces back and forth between me and the dummy multiple times, taking in what I did. “Have you ever done that before? Thrown knives?”

  I smile at his dumbfounded expression. “Knives, no. Darts, often.”

  “Come with me.” He turns and walks towards the armory. He grabs two short swords as well as daggers of various sizes from the wall. My eyes rest upon a pair of small axes sitting on one of the several tables in the space.

  “I know the swords are too big,” he says. “They’re generic training weapons. Once you know your strength, a weapons is made to fit you specifically.”

  I grab the leather-bound handles of the twin axes, twisting my wrists, twirling the blades through the air.

  “Bring them. It won’t hurt to try them out,” Lincoln says.

  We head back out to the field and take up position across from the same dummy with a knife sticking out of its face. Then, taking my time, I try one weapons after another. None of them are up to par. Some handles are too big around for my hands, others have balance issues and, when thrown, land hilt first. I save the twin axes for last, their allure pulling heavily on me. I’ve never tried to throw an axe before, but how difficult could it be?

  I release the first, and before it makes contact, I release the second. They land side by side, impaling the dummy right in the chest.

  Lincoln eyes me up and down, his fingers massaging his chin. “Violet has a natural talent. I was starting to think that you naturally suck at everything.” His words are mean, but the wink he follows them up with makes me smile. He’s impressed and he’s not easily impressable.

  He spends some time working on my stance. Even Grayson’s sighs and whines aren’t enough to pull me from the sensation of Lincoln’s hands on me, shifting me this way and that. I’ve had some pretty boyfriends before, but nothing like him. Compliments of his outfit, I don’t even need to imagine what his torso looks like, because I can see the muscles lingering beneath the leather. It’s not fair to be so perfect, but I’m not upset about it.

  He leans over me, his hand on top of mine as he explains when to release the throw. “Remember that if you throw the axes, you won’t have a weapon. Throwing them will be your last resort.”

  “What happens then?” I ask. “Should I tackle the person and then just brawl?” When would that training start?

  “If you used your magic you wouldn’t need to worry about not having a weapon,” Grayson adds as though his opinion matters to either of us.

  Lincoln lets me go and faces the man. “Magic has limits. You know this, Grayson. What happens when your energy runs out?” Grayson simply stares. “Unless you are the Watcher, that will happen. When you have no magic left in your body and the attack continues, what do you do?”

  I toss the axe in my hand, letting it somersault a few times before catching it. “You find another way to fight.”

  “Exactly,” Lincoln says. “You use your weapon.”

  “You stay alive,” I add. “Any way you can.” Once upon a time, he berated me for using a shoe to hit Stanley with, telling me that it was not the right way to fight. My defense was to tell him it’s the natural way to stay alive. By the way he’s looking at me right now, he remembers that conversation as well.

  “When you can’t use your weapon, you fight,” he continues, not lowering himself to reply to my comment. “You fight with your body and you protect yourself.”

  “Rovente members would never find themselves in such a position in the first place,” Grayson counters. “And she is Rovente.”

  That gets my attention. Lincoln and Ben told me the other night at dinner that it’s standard for elementals to stay in Rovente, while mental and physical power wielders stay in Pensatore. There’s no law in place requiring this, meaning that the decision of where to be is ours to make.

  I open my mouth to tell him this, and a wispy voice cuts in first, calling my name. All three of us turn at the sound, finding Seraphina walking towards us. Grayson bends at the waist, letting his shoulder length dirty blonde hair fall in front of his face. He would be a perfect person to put on the cover of a romance novel, but not someone I find attractive. He’s a bit too short in my opinion.

  Seraphina waves her hand and Grayson stands up taller than normal. With her arms stretched out in front of her, she singles me out and continues her approach. When she leans forward, I lean back. She invited herself into my bubble and I don’t like it. Annoyance flashes over her before she collects herself and waves it off. “Hello, Violet. I was hoping to have a word with you.” She glances at the two men next to me. “Privately.”

  I don’t hesitate before agreeing. If it gets me out of training and away from fantasizing about Lincoln, then it’s worth it. Both men make themselves busy and disappear, leaving the two us alone.

  “How is your training going? Grayson was telling me that there are a lot of gaps that Lincoln is neglecting.”

  I barely contain my snort. Of course he told her that. “It’s going wonderfully actually,” I say in the snootiest voice I can manage.

  She ignores it. “You are a lightning elemental, Violet, and that alone is astounding.” I remember their reaction to my power very well, but no one had explained it to me and I didn’t care enough to ask. “Lightning, of course, is an elemental ability. Until the other day, though, we believed it to be extinct. As far
as Rovente knows, you might be the only one in Strega with lightning, apart from the Watcher of course. That makes you more special than I can ever explain.”

  I kick around a pebble, already bored. “And why is that?”

  “Even elementals have our weaknesses. Lightning is different though and is something you should be learning how to use properly. Must be one of those gaps that Grayson was referring to. Regardless, it seems like you are also a raw magic wielder. Do you know what that means?”

  She sits down on one of the nearby benches, gesturing for me to join her. I shake my head. She’s not in a dress today. Instead, she looks as though she came here with training in mind. A golden chest piece hugs her figure as well as plates on her thighs and forearms. Knee-high boots in the same color finish her uniform. She’s so pristine that I can’t begin to imagine her dirtying herself by training.