Crown of Blood

by D G Swank

  But my mind quickly left that train of thought in favor of a more pressing diversion: the chaos in my head had vanished, leaving behind a sucking vacuum.

  Confused, I spun around to face him as he blocked the entrance.

  His eyes were hard. “If you have a problem with your new accommodations, take it up with Donall.”

  The door slammed shut. I lifted my hand to blast it open and felt nothing. No magic. No power from the orb. Absolutely nothing.

  Donall had moved me to a null room.

  Panic washed through me, but it was followed by a blooming feeling of relief. My mind was clearer than it had ever been in my entire life.

  The constant tugging of my magic was gone, and part of me wished it would never return.

  Chapter Eight

  I glanced around the room, barely taking in the furnishings as I tried to acclimate to the loss of chaos in my head. It felt like I could finally breathe.

  There was a queen-sized bed against the wall, covered in a masculine bedspread. I walked over and sat on the edge.

  I felt so good, so healthy that I had to ask myself if I really wanted my magic back. Maybe the small part of me that didn’t want it was right. If a room could be nulled, surely a house could be. Maybe even a person…

  But my mother had given me a mission. She’d trusted me to fulfill it. And even if that weren’t a consideration, these madmen were looking for my sisters and the book. If nothing else, I had to think of them. I needed my magic to save them.

  I surveyed the room. It was at least four or five times as big as the room they’d put me in previously. A round table made of rich wood sat close to the windows, boasting four chairs with tapestry seats, and a sofa was pushed against the opposite wall, next to the door. At the corner nearest the foot of the bed was a desk and a couple of bookcases full of books. A few papers were scattered on the desk.

  Somebody had been staying here, and from the look of the space, they’d had plenty of time to settle in and call it home.

  Then it hit me: this was where the Dark Set had been headquartered, likely for years.

  I walked over to the desk and started snooping. The papers on top were invoices for food addressed to Arthur Potter—the alias my father had assumed after the Dark Set staged his death six years ago. The drawers were locked, so I went through the bookcases, looking for anything I could use to help me in my secret war against the Dark Set, but anything sensitive had been removed or locked inside those drawers. Drawers I was maddeningly not able to open owing to the enchantment on the room. So I started searching for clues about the man I’d grown up viewing as an adversary instead of a father. He had books on magic—titles similar to what Xenya had in her library, all of which had proven unhelpful in my short stay with her last week—but also plenty of fiction and books on English history in the Middle Ages.

  I pulled a history book from the shelves, surprised to see he’d highlighted sections on English nobility and peasants—more specifically, how the feudal system worked. Was this what the Dark Set had planned? To enslave the non-magicals as serfs?

  There was a rap at the door. I almost put the book back on the shelf, but decided I had nothing to hide.

  The door opened and my father walked in with a worried look on his face. “I see Zane brought you up to your new accommodations.”

  “And I see that they were yours,” I said dryly, remaining in his desk chair. “Do you really live in a null room or was that little trick arranged specifically for me?”

  “It’s for your own protection as well as everyone else’s, Celeste. Donall and Peter are concerned your work with Zane might make you temporarily unstable.”

  I put the book on the desk. “You mean crazy.”

  “No.” He took a step closer, reaching out his hand. “You’re learning how to handle your magic in an entirely different way. That has to be taxing. I thought you might like a break from the constant fight in your head.”

  While I wasn’t a detector of lies, I would have bet the Book of Sindal that he was speaking the truth. I didn’t know what to make of that.

  “You look surprised,” he said softly. “But then why wouldn’t you? Your mother did her best to poison you against me.”

  I wanted to protest, but it wouldn’t serve my long-range goals, and there was no denying it was true. If Mother had ever thought well of him, that time had ended when I was too young to notice.

  “Come sit.” He motioned to the table and chairs. I got up and walked over to join him, sitting opposite him. “How did your training with Zane go? Did he treat you well?” The concern was back in his eyes.

  I suspected they’d told Zane to actually help me work with my magic, not give me a lecture, but for some reason, I didn’t want to throw him under the bus. He’d been a complete asshole earlier, but something in him had softened this afternoon, and I was grateful for what he’d taught me. “Yes, it went amazingly well.”

  Surprise flickered in his eyes. “He helped you control your magic?”

  “I learned a lot about my magic this afternoon,” I fudged with a soft smile.

  His shock remained, but it was obvious I’d told him exactly what he wanted to hear. “Excellent. Excellent indeed.” He clapped his hands together. “How soon do you think it will be before you’re ready?”

  I cocked my head to the side. “Ready for what?”

  “To find the book. Help us take over what remains of Valeria.”

  “I couldn’t say,” I answered evenly. “Zane told me it took years of study with the Druids for him to gain control of his powers.”

  “You’re stronger than Zane,” my father said, getting agitated. “You should be able to master it quicker.”

  I suspected it worked exactly the opposite way, especially since Zane seemed genuinely concerned that it might be too late to train me. Besides, I knew Zane was hiding his power, so I had no idea which of us was more powerful. I wasn’t going to tattle about that either—if he had his own agenda against the Dark Set, I wasn’t about to get in the way. The more enemies they had, the better. “Zane was surprisingly gracious,” I said. “I grudgingly admit that he was a good choice for my tutor.”

  “Good,” he said, looking pleased and relieved. “Good, but now we must discuss another topic.”

  “Oh?”

  “Donall…” He paused and glanced down at the table for a moment. When he looked up, his eyes were shuttered. “He would like to have dinner with you tonight.”

  “Okay.”

  “Just the two of you.”

  What was he getting at? “Okay.”

  “He…he has great plans for you, Celeste. I beg you to hear him out before you make a decision.”

  So the thoughts I’d planted earlier had taken seed. The fool genuinely hoped he could make me his queen. Plastering a demure look on my face, I gave a slight nod. “I’m here to be of service to the Dark Set. Of course I’ll hear him out.”

  He started to say something, then stopped. “His discussion might turn personal in nature.”

  I stifled the urge to laugh. He was treating me like a child, incapable of reading through the lines, although I suppose he still saw me as the seventeen-year-old girl he’d left. “Donall is your second, of course I’ll listen.”

  He shook his head, glancing away. “He’s in charge now. After…” He cleared his throat. “I’ve stepped down from my position. I’m his advisor now.”

  “Then why isn’t Donall in your room?” I asked, keeping my tone innocent.

  “Because he’s given it to you,” he said with no hint of malice. He reached over to take my hand, hesitating as he glanced at my right palm. Then, remembering where we were, he clasped it. “Celeste, it’s imperative we find your sisters and bring them into the fold before the Reaping.”

  “The Reaping?” Realization sunk in. “That’s when the orb takes the powers from the witches.”

  “If your sisters voluntarily join us, you’ll be allowed to restore Phoebe’s power, and
Rowan will get to keep her magic. They’ll both be given powerful husbands. The Whelan witch line will continue to thrive as it has done for centuries. But if they don’t join us, the Whelan power ends with you.”

  I wasn’t sure what to make of his plea. My mother had been the Whelan—the name and lineage was passed from mother to daughter. My father was no Whelan. But he’d always taken pride in his connection to the old, august name, using it to gain advantages with the Valerian councils.

  Did he still need the Whelan clout in the new world the Dark Set was creating? Perhaps so if he’d truly lost his position. He probably also cared about my sisters to some degree, if for no other reason than that people saw their children as an extension of themselves.

  “I have no contact with my sisters. The Small Council—and Donall—made sure of that.” I was sure he’d played a part in that decision too, but I saw no advantage in pointing it out.

  “I know, but once you begin to control your powers…”

  “That’s not how covens work, Father. You know that.” But he had a point. I might have enough raw power to find them—once I learned to properly control it.

  But you don’t need to find them, something deep inside me said. You only need to find the book.

  No. I didn’t need the book. I could do this on my own. I trusted the Book of Sindal even less now that I knew about the witch hidden within it. She had her own motivations, her own endgame, and I didn’t know what form it would take.

  “I love my sisters,” I said. “And I’ll do everything in my power to protect them, but how can I use my power if I’m in a null room?”

  “When you’re out, working with Zane, perhaps you could try then?”

  “Yes,” I said, because that was what he wanted to hear. “I’ll try then.”

  Relief washed over his face. “Thank you, but I have one more request.”

  It struck me then that our roles had reversed—he was subservient to me now. He was already treating me as though I were his queen. This could be used to my advantage. “Ask.”

  “Donall wants the book—as do I—but he doesn’t know how desperately I want your sisters. He could use that against me, especially after…”

  “After your failure with Rowan,” I stated matter-of-factly.

  Flinching, he said, “I overestimated her love for me.”

  He had overestimated many things. “I’ll do anything to protect my sisters,” I said again, putting plenty of emotion into my voice. It didn’t require any playacting. “Anything.”

  Tears glistened in his eyes. “Thank you.”

  His concern for Phoebe and Rowan took me by surprise, and part of me wanted to lash out. His supposed death had devastated Rowan and made Phoebe, already fragile from the sudden death of our mother, a shell of herself for nearly a year. He’d nearly destroyed them, and now he had the gall to act concerned.

  You betrayed them too, the voice inside me said. By keeping his secret.

  It was for the greater good, I reminded it. The glory of Valeria depended on it.

  The voice remained silent, but its silence was message enough.

  Chapter Nine

  Donall arrived in my room promptly at eight. The sun had set, but I’d left the overhead lights off and turned on a few lamps, providing an intimate atmosphere. Donall was coming to court me. I was prepared to play the part.

  I only hoped he wouldn’t take it too far.

  I answered the knock at the door and found him wearing dress clothes, his shirt freshly ironed and starched. I wondered if he’d gotten one of his grunt witches to do it.

  “I hope this isn’t too late for you,” he said, and I couldn’t help wondering if the question was a test. Did he expect full compliance, or did he expect me to have some spirit?

  I decided to go with my gut.

  “Of course not, Master Donall,” I cooed, taking a step back to let him in. “I’m looking forward to our chat, but I’m afraid I’m underdressed.” I motioned to the simple tunic dress I’d worn for two days.

  “No, you’re perfect the way you are,” he said, but it sounded forced. He started to take a step inside, then hesitated.

  “The null room?” I asked. “I admit at first it’s disconcerting, but I like that it evens the playing field, so to speak.” I took another step back. “I hope you brought dinner, because I don’t have anything to offer you.”

  My reminder of food snapped him out of his indecision. He motioned to someone in the hall, and two women walked in with a cart. I watched as they covered the round table with a tablecloth, wondering all the while why in seven hells they were willingly doing it. They set the table with plates covered with metal domes, napkins with silverware, a wine bucket and glasses, and several small tea candles. Were they witches? I couldn’t tell in the null room, but their hostile attitudes suggested they thought I was after what they wanted—Donall.

  They started to push the cart out when Donall said, “Take the lids and the cart, Marni, then leave us.” Only he was still standing in the doorway.

  The blonde woman removed the domes, then both of them quickly left. Donall took a step back to let them out.

  I’d spent enough time with Donall, both online and in person, to know he relied on his power to make him the big strong man he wanted the world to see. He was afraid he wouldn’t measure up without that power. He was likely right, but I wouldn’t be the one to tell him. Not yet, anyway.

  I gave him an innocent smile. “Would you rather eat somewhere else?”

  “No,” he said just a bit too quickly.

  He was afraid of me or, more accurately, my erratic power.

  “Do you mind if I eat?” I asked. “Lunch was a long time ago.”

  A tiny shudder rippled through him, then he strode purposely into the room and shut the door behind him.

  “Come join me,” I said, taking a seat and unwrapping my napkin.

  He sat opposite me and reached for the open wine bottle, filling both of our glasses. After he set the bottle in the bucket of ice, he took a generous gulp of his wine.

  “Do I make you nervous?” I teased, setting my silverware on the table.

  His eyes darkened. “Why would you make me nervous?”

  I released a small laugh. “You tried to kill me the last time we were together.”

  “Which makes me wonder why you’re here,” he said with a wary look.

  “I’ve always known I would make great sacrifices for the book. Besides, I trusted you, which was why I struggled with your decision to leave my training to Zane.”

  “You trust me?” His skepticism was evident.

  “You are the mage who’s destined to usher the world into a new era.”

  “Not your father?”

  “No,” I said. “He’s too weak. We need a leader who’s not afraid to make hard decisions. Even when those decisions go against what the heart wants.”

  Relief filled his eyes. “I didn’t want to sacrifice you, Celeste. I’d already grown quite fond of you.”

  I seriously doubted that, but I smiled coyly, glancing down at the Cornish hen, grilled asparagus, and scalloped potatoes on my plate. Donall wouldn’t want a woman confident in her choices. He’d want a blushing virgin whom he could mold into the perfect wife.

  We ate in silence for a few moments, and I let Donall have a chance to take charge of the conversation. He didn’t disappoint.

  “How did this afternoon go?”

  “With Zane? Better than expected.”

  “He’s helping you control your magic?”

  I gave him the same answer I’d given my father. “I learned much about my magic.”

  “Good,” he said, obviously delighted. “Then the two of you will spend most of tomorrow working together.”

  I gave him a small nod. “At your will, Master Donall.”

  His eyes narrowed, looking for any sign of mockery, but he wouldn’t find it. After years of lying to my sisters, the people most important to me, it didn’t faze me at a
ll to lie to him. I’d been extra careful about keeping my disgust buried below the surface.

  “When you’re ready, I’d like for you to call out to the book,” he said. “You said it called out to you before when you found us at Radcliffe. Perhaps you can call to it too. The book is dangerous in your sisters’ hands.”

  So he hadn’t heard the book earlier. If he had, he wouldn’t have posed it as a question.

  I was certain the book would heed my call, given that it had essentially been stalking me, but I wasn’t about to admit that. I needed to focus on the most immediate threat. “It’s harmless in my sisters’ hands,” I said in a teasing tone. “Phoebe has never once shown any interest in even touching it, let alone opening it and trying to read it.”

  “Rowan did read it,” he said. “And I’m sure it spoke to her. She could be reading it now.”

  “It would need more of my blood,” I said. Which was one of the many reasons it would be too dangerous to unleash the book—it wanted blood, and I had no idea how much would be enough. “I haven’t fed it since I was with you weeks ago.”

  His gaze narrowed. “I saw blood on your hand when I found you with the Orb of Power, Celeste.”

  “Rowan’s blood.” It wasn’t totally a lie—my blood had been mingled with hers. We’d pierced our palms with the Dagger of Hillcrest to feed the book more blood in our desperation to find a spell that would release the orb from the dead mage who’d consumed it.

  Donall looked skeptical, so I wasn’t surprised when he reached for my right hand and searched for a recent wound. I tried not to look unnerved. I’d magically healed the wound, but part of me wondered if the null room had undone the magic. I hadn’t thought to check.

  I had scars, of course, but they were obviously much older. That wouldn’t throw him off. He knew I’d been feeding blood to the book for months. He was the one who’d suggested it.

  Although I’d done it on my mother’s advice and not his bidding.

  He didn’t release my hand after examining it, instead bending over to kiss my knuckles.