by D G Swank
“What does that mean?”
“It’s typical that you would have a girlfriend and still be looking for the next best thing.”
“Girlfriend?”
“Lisa?” I said in a sharp tone. “Have you forgotten her already?”
He looked down at me and grinned.
A gnawing feeling filled my gut. “She’s not your girlfriend, is she?”
Zane stopped in front of a closed door and grinned. “Nope.”
“You two are obviously close,” I said.
“She’s my sister.” He opened the door and motioned for me to precede him into the room, but my head was still reeling with the news that Zane was unattached.
He’s not available to you, I reminded myself. Donall thinks you belong to him.
Zane mistook my hesitation and lowered his mouth to my ear. “This room won’t hurt you, Celeste. In fact, I think you’ll learn to love it here.”
I wasn’t sure I could love any place owned by the Dark Set, but I entered anyway, if for nothing else than to prove I wasn’t afraid of anything or anyone on this compound.
When I entered the room, I expected to be blown away by a grandiose library like the Beast had shown Belle in the Disney movie. One where at least half the books had to be literally inaccessible. That didn’t happen. This was a room with ten-foot ceilings, bookshelves on almost every wall. A row of three tables sat in the middle.
“This is my favorite place in the compound,” Zane said, walking over to a shelf. “It makes me feel like the world is at my fingertips.”
“I hear the internet can give you that too,” I said dryly, even though I appreciated libraries myself. Phoebe had encouraged my love for books and the sacred spaces that held them.
He gave me a boyish grin. “The internet can’t give you these. Come look.” He pulled out an old cloth-covered book and handed it to me.
I took the tome and scanned the title. History of Magic, Volume 1.
I’d seen books on magic—Xenya had her own small library, which I’d scoured while marooned at her house the previous week—but I could tell this book was different.
“This is where I spend most of my time here,” he said, “Learning. About Druid magic. Valerian history. The history of the Samsites and the Brexors. There are books here about us, Celeste, about expression witches and mages and what they were capable of—things I had never considered or heard of before, even from the Druids.” He stepped closer, lowering his voice to a whisper. “Expression witches and mages are nearly unstoppable. It’s important for us to understand that.”
I stared up into his deep blue eyes. Although he’d admitted that he walled off his power, this was the first time he’d directly told me that he was stronger than he let on, and it wasn’t lost on me that he was admitting it now. Was this a test of some kind? I started to ask him, but the door burst open.
“Master Zane?” Marni called out. “I’ve brought your lunch.”
I glanced over my shoulder to see her frowning at me as she carried a tray into the room. Her frown turned into a simpering smile as her gaze settled on Zane. A weird protective instinct filled my chest. Only it wasn’t for myself. I wanted to protect Zane.
From Marni? It made no sense.
“You can set it on the table, Marni,” Zane told her absently as he started to grab books from the shelves. “That will be all.”
She took her time walking to the table and setting down the tray, as though waiting for further acknowledgment from Zane. When there was none, she took a step back, her gaze narrowing in on his butt.
His very attractive butt. My magic came awake. I gritted my teeth and concentrated on the air around us, hoping the methods I’d learned over the past couple of days would help me regain control.
Marni gave Zane—or rather his butt—a soft smile. “If you need anything else, Master Zane, feel free to text me.”
“Okay,” he said, his back to her as he scanned a shelf.
“For anything,” she added.
“Got it,” he said, his eyes on the books as he pulled one out. “That will be all. You may leave.”
She slowly walked out of the room, and for a few seconds, my magic and emotion tumbled uncomfortably in my chest.
“Did Marni get you worked up?” Zane asked, moving to a new shelf. His fingers ran over the bindings as he searched for a title. “I can feel your magic.”
I felt the need to lash out, although I had no idea why. So I grabbed hold of the one thing that wouldn’t make me look like a madwoman. “Would it have hurt you to say thank you?” I snapped.
His gaze lifted to mine. “I suppose you’re right. I didn’t think about it.”
“That’s the problem with the Dark Set mentality,” I said. “The mages don’t feel obligated to thank women for their acts of service. Their work is expected, so the Dark Set sees no reason to thank them. It’s more than just putting women in their place, Zane. It’s making them slaves.”
Alarm filled his eyes and his gaze shot to the door. I could feel his magic reach out and lock the door as he took several steps toward me, his arms loaded with books. “You can’t say things like that, Celeste.”
“Why? It’s true.”
He set the books down on the table. “Because dissent is considered treason.” He moved in front of me and took my hands. Although the timing was impossible, it struck me that I wanted him to keep touching me—and if his hands felt this good on mine, they’d feel even better on the rest of my body.
Holding my gaze, he said, “Donall may tolerate your impertinent behavior now, but he won’t accept it for long. Especially if you go through with marrying him.” He stopped as a fire filled his eyes. “He will punish you, Celeste, and who do you think he’ll expect to mete out your sentence?”
I swallowed, certain he was right.
Oh, gods and goddesses. Why hadn’t I seen it before?
“What are you thinking?” he asked, his anger fading as anxiety filled his voice.
I shook my head and pulled my hands away.
“Celeste. What are you thinking?” His voice was harder, more direct, but I saw the panic in his eyes. “You think I would hurt you?”
Tears swam in my eyes. “You’re teaching me so you’ll know my strengths and my weaknesses. You’ll know exactly how to punish me.”
I expected him to protest, but he remained silent, a war waging in his eyes.
“Was this his idea or yours?” I asked.
“You know I didn’t want to train you,” he said in disgust. “He didn’t tell me why he was asking, but I’m smart enough to connect the dots.” He pushed out a breath. “And so are you.”
“So you let me believe that you were my friend?”
He started to answer, then stopped. “You think we’re friends?”
His question stung, but I didn’t want to show him I was hurt. I gave him a scathing look instead. “Maybe I should go back to my room.”
He touched me again, the pads of his fingers sending sparks shooting up my arm. “Going back to your room would be the absolute worst thing you can do to your magic right now,” he said, letting his hand fall. “If you don’t want to be around me, then you stay here and I’ll leave. I have some things to deal with anyway.” Only he didn’t make any move to leave.
“You would hurt me?” The question slipped out before I could stop it or the pain leeching through every word.
He flinched. “I don’t want to, Celeste.”
“But you will if he tells you to.”
“This isn’t a democracy,” he said, his face hard. “It’s a dictatorship.” He ran a hand over his head. “When your father was in charge, things were…different. Nicer. Donall has a sadistic streak running through his soul.” His eyes glistened. “He will look for ways to hurt you, Celeste, and he will soak up your pain like a sponge.”
A new realization hit me, and I gasped. “He killed an empath.”
He shook his head. “What?”
“Surely y
ou’ve figured out how he got all of his power,” I said. “He was a weak mage, and he became strong before he ever had contact with the book.” I held his gaze. “Donall has been killing witches and mages to take their power for himself.” A new horror filled me. Why would a man like him ever want a powerful wife? “He probably wants to kill me for mine.”
“What? Wait.” Zane ran his hand over his head again and began to pace. “First, how do you know he killed Valerians to gain their magic? It’s impossible.”
“No. It’s impossible for us to kill other Valerians with magic, not impossible for us to use magic to take another’s power. I knew there had been a string of murders over the last few years, but it’s happened more lately. The Protective Force has been covering it up to avoid spreading panic.” I took a step closer and lowered my voice. “Zane, I know he has a spell to do this—he practically admitted it to me—although I have no idea where he got it.” I gasped again, because I was suddenly sure of the answer. It had been in front of me this whole time. “My father. He got it from my father.”
“How would your father get it?” he asked.
“The book,” I said, feeling nauseated by the thought. “Before my mother was killed, my father was a guardian of the Book of Sindal. How else would Donall know to feed the book my blood and my sisters’ blood? My father told him. My father fed it my mother’s blood, and the book gave him that spell.”
“Celeste,” Zane said, sounding ill himself. “This is crazy.”
I nearly blasted him with magic for questioning my mental health, but then I realized he looked so stricken because he believed me. “Why do you look so surprised?” I asked. “You know he’s capable of it.”
“But it’s…”
I needed confirmation about the spell, and I knew where to get it, but first I needed to know which side Zane was on. “You would kill me?” I asked, my voice hard. “You would torture me on Donall’s order for his sick pleasure?”
His face paled and he swallowed. “He’s in charge, Celeste.”
A lump formed in my throat as I nodded. “Yes, he is.” I sucked in a deep breath, my heart breaking, although I had no idea why. “I need to be alone. You can lock me in if you’d like.”
He started to protest, then stopped. Walking over to the stack of books, he placed his hand on top. “Please give these books a chance. Let your magic pick where to start. It will know what you need.” He cast me one final look as he strode out the doors, then the lock clicked behind him.
A book would have answers for me, but not one of the books he was referring to.
“Spirit of the book,” I called out. “I’m ready.”
Chapter Seventeen
The mist gathered almost instantly, as if it had been hiding in the shadows, and morphed into the woman’s face. She smiled. “You called, my queen?”
I swallowed my trepidation. “I’m ready to retrieve you.”
The mist erupted with light. “You will not regret this,” she said.
“But I can’t go yet,” I said. “I need to come up with a plan because I’ll be coming back.”
Her eyes darkened. “You plan to give the Book of Sindal to the Dark Set?”
“No, I plan to destroy the Dark Set with the book and my power. You said you would help me with my magic?”
“Yes, you do not need the expression mage. You need only me.”
I wasn’t so sure about that. Zane had helped me far more in two days than I’d learned in twenty-plus years. But I couldn’t train with him anymore. There was a chance he’d feel the need to follow Donall’s orders, if only to protect Lisa, and I couldn’t give him any more ammunition to use against me. “Maybe so, but I need to come back. I can’t let them think I ran away.”
“Tell them you know where your sisters are. They’ll give you their blessing to leave.”
I shook my head. “They’ll send guards with me. I can’t risk it.”
She was silent for a moment. “Your father will find an excuse for you to go. He’ll want to protect your sisters.”
“He might expect to come with me.”
She smiled, but it looked malicious. “No. He will stay, if for no other reason than to watch the thief mage.”
Thief mage? Was she referring to Donall’s penchant for stealing power? “Spirit of the book,” I said slowly. “Did you give my father spells from your book?”
She was silent for several moments. “Yes,” she said at last.
My heart sunk at the confirmation, even though I’d already put it together. “Did you give my father the spell Donall’s using to take magic from witches and mages?”
“Yes.”
I sat down in the chair next to the table with the books. “How? He would have needed blood. Lots of it. My mother never would have given it to him. Neither would my aunt.”
“The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree,” she said with a small smile that sent shame spiraling through me. My sisters likely knew about that by now. No doubt Donall had been eager to tell Rowan what I’d done. “He used the same trick you did,” the spirit continued. “Magic and sleeping potion. He retrieved three spells. The thief mage is using one.”
“What are the other two?” I asked.
She smiled. “Come find me and I’ll tell you the other two.”
I suspected it was a trick. For all I knew, he’d retrieved a dozen spells. Or only one.
“You must come soon,” she said. “Your sisters are preparing to move on tomorrow.” As the final word left her mouth, she faded into mist. Donall could learn a thing or two about dramatic timing from her.
The spirit was right. My father would help me leave this place to retrieve the book, especially since I knew he wanted Rowan and Phoebe to join us. I would draw on his preference for Rowan to seal the deal.
But first, I needed food, so I ate one of the lunches Marni had brought—a cold baked chicken breast with roasted root vegetables. The food was bland and I couldn’t help thinking what Rowan could have done differently.
An ache filled my heart. I missed my sisters. I missed the farm too. Although it had become my prison, everything about it was achingly familiar, from the peeling paint on the walls to the kettle we used to make tea in the mornings. One of the walls in the living room was still marked with all of our heights from childhood.
As I ate, I flipped through the books Zane had pulled for me, trying to figure out his angle. Why he would teach me to be stronger, only to use it against me? I was learning at a rapid rate, which had to give him pause if he was to be my tormentor. Surely he wouldn’t want me to be stronger than him.
Or would he?
What if Zane was teaching me how to protect myself from him? From anyone?
This was why my mother had told me, time and again, that love made people stupid. I wanted to trust Zane—I’d seen the goodness in him, both in his aura and his heart—but good people did bad things all the time. Revealing myself to him would be a mistake. The only people I could trust were my sisters. And I needed to see them, to make things right with them and restore Phoebe’s power, before I finished things with the Dark Set. It might be my only chance.
I also needed to find the book. I’d vacillated about whether to use it, but its revelation about my father had made the decision for me. The Book of Sindal was much more dangerous than I had thought.
My mind made up, I left the library, wondering where I could find my father. If I’d taken his room, where was he staying? I remembered how to find the kitchen, so I decided to suck it up and ask Marni. It was no surprise when she was less than receptive to my question.
“If he’s your father, then he’s your responsibility,” she said with a whole lot of attitude, chopping up a few carrots as if they’d mortally offended her. “I’m not his keeper.”
“Agreed,” I said. “But I haven’t seen him since the dinner last night and I didn’t think to ask him about his new room. So if you could just tell me…” I forced a bright smile.
“Che
ck in the basement,” a woman called out from the back. “I heard he was moved down there.”
“Thank you,” I shouted back to her, then turned to Marni. “We don’t have to be enemies, Marni. There are so few women here. Can’t we be friends?”
“I’ll never be friends with a Whelan.” Her sneer was so full of hate, it made her beautiful face ugly. She spat on the floor at my feet. “The scourge of the earth. I can’t believe Master Donall has stooped so low.”
“Thank you,” I said, meaning it. It was good to know how others viewed me here. Obviously, Marni would never be an ally.
The basement was dark and gloomy, but I found my father’s room at the end of a long hall, a makeshift nameplate attached to the door. Oh, how the mighty had fallen. I had to wonder if this was how he’d imagined things when he’d betrayed us all for the Dark Set.
I knocked and my father answered nearly immediately, but surprise filled his eyes when he saw it was me.
“Hello, Father,” I said. “I wondered if we could talk.”
“Of course,” he said, taking a step back. “Yes. I’d love to. Would you like a cup of tea?” He moved to a table pushed against the wall and grabbed an electric kettle.
“No, thank you.” I wasn’t eating or drinking anything from this man. He’d sedated my mother, which meant I couldn’t trust him. Then again, I’d sedated my sisters too. Did they think the same thing?
For the first time, it occurred to me that they might not want to see me. I’d manipulated them, and although I’d told myself I was doing it with just cause, surely my father had thought the same. Then there was the fact that I’d almost sacrificed Rowan’s boyfriend for the book. Fear ran down my spine like winter’s bite.
My father didn’t seem to notice my disquiet, perhaps because he was so steeped in his own discontent. He filled the pot at a dirty-looking sink in a cabinet along the wall. “Very well. I’ll fix myself one if you don’t mind.”
“Why are you in the basement?” I asked.