Thomas smiled suddenly, as if she’d made a joke, and at the sight of it she felt a treacherous warmth blossom in her chest. “I’m sure you deserve more credit than you’re giving yourself.” He hesitated again, just for a minute. It was only when he took a step forward that she realized she’d been holding her breath. “I could help you become more familiar with some of the local plants, if you’d like.”
Later, Illiana would tell herself that she’d stumbled across the perfect plan. Nature, full of the possibility of thorns and sharp branches, would offer any number of ideal opportunities to get a sample of the king’s blood. The offer to tutor her made it apparent he trusted too easily, which would only help her achieve her goal.
At that time, however, she hadn’t yet thought up that particular lie. “I’d love to.” The words were breathy, as if they’d come out before she’d been ready for them. “When?”
Pleasure instantly lit his face. “Would tomorrow evening be too soon?”
“No.” She smiled at him, wondering if this was what rewarding yourself felt like. “Tomorrow evening sounds wonderful.”
Chapter 11
Tangled Web
They were using her mother’s workroom, a bright space full of books and potions that had been mostly cleared for the analysis. Elena hadn’t felt comfortable about using her own workroom, which she’d intentionally kept small to discourage company. Braeth’s was too dark, and full of things that might be lethally annoyed if someone accidentally tripped over them.
Elena was kneeling in the middle of the newly cleared floor, drawing the protective circle. Its main function would be to keep the curse from unleashing any nasty surprises on the people prodding it. Though the protection would do her little good—she and the curse would both be within the containment—there was something oddly comforting about it.
Or there would be, as soon as she could draw the thing properly.
“The glyph is fine, princess,” Braeth chided her, the shadows that surrounded him wildly out of place in the sunlight-filled workroom. “I suspect even the original spell caster did not worry quite so much over each individual line as you have.”
Elena, whose hand had already been twitching to erase the glyph and start over, narrowed her eyes at the wraith. “You know as well as I do that even the smallest mistake can make the circle completely useless.” Still, she made herself stop, sitting back on her heels to examine the circle one more time. She hadn’t slept a great deal the night before, and didn’t want that fact to affect her work. “We haven’t done this in a few years, and now is the worst possible time for me to become careless.”
“You’re not capable of carelessness, my dear,” her mother said, sitting at one of the long worktables and checking her own notes for what Elena suspected was the thirtieth time. She met her daughter’s gaze, a world of understanding in her eyes. “Stubbornness, perhaps, but never carelessness.”
The tension inside Elena eased a fraction as she let herself be distracted. “I should be more considerate of Braeth’s feelings, though. I’m sure it must be hard for him with all this sunlight, and not nearly enough bubbling things to make him feel comfortable.”
“That is true.” Her mother glanced over at Braeth, lips curving upward a little. “If you’d like, I can run down and grab a few of your potions to help you feel at home. Maybe even a skull or two.”
“Impertinent children.” The humor was obvious in the wraith’s voice. “It is fortunate for you both that I have forgiven you for your tragic wit long ago.”
“We’re eternally grateful,” Elena said, leaning over and redoing a curve on one of the sigils. She hadn’t made it quite sharp enough. “If it helps, I’m sure Dr. Flyte and Robbie will be much better behaved than we are.”
Braeth’s shadows snuck upward, collecting around the skylights and dimming the entire room a little. “The good doctor is always well behaved, which is another way of saying ‘profoundly uninteresting.’”
“If you could resist sniping at him during the analysis, I’d appreciate it.” Elena took another look at the protective circle, which also included the projection spell that would make all magic performed within its boundaries visible to everyone.
Intelligent people generally assigned two people to draw the circles for the most complicated spells, since the stress of getting everything right was generally enough to make even the most well-adjusted sorceress snap. Elena, however, had decided it was the only project large enough to keep her from panicking.
As she brushed away a microscopic bit of chalk dust, nerves twisted her stomach just a little tighter. Unfortunately, her theory hadn’t been entirely accurate.
“I assure you, Elena,” Braeth responded solemnly. “I have never approached a task more seriously than I do this one.” She sensed the wraith floating closer to the circle. When she looked up, her mother’s eyes were on her again as well. The sheer concern she could feel radiating from both of them was a pressure against her chest, and she hated that she couldn’t seem to hold on to such a simple thing as light teasing.
Clearing her throat, Elena returned her gaze to the circle and tried again. “I’m not worried about that. I would just rather you not scar Robbie.” Knowing she’d done all she could with the glyphs, she made herself sit back on her heels and review the spells for her portion of the analysis. “He’s still relatively new to the craft, which means he thinks that people who have mastered it are wise, thoughtful people. I’d hate to have you and Dr. Flyte be the ones to disillusion him.”
“Oh, it’s better that it happens now.” Her mother stood, deliberately turning away from her notes. “Someone like Braeth comes as such a shock later in life. The young are far more resilient.”
Before Braeth could reply, the door swung open. Robbie appeared, his shoulder against the door and his arms full of the bottom half of Dr. Flyte’s mirror. Cam came through the door next, holding onto the mirror’s other side with a long-suffering expression.
Elena realized why as soon as she caught what the doctor was saying. “Personality has far more influence on sibling dynamics than birth order, but younger siblings cannot help but be influenced by the older children. For example, it’s likely that Robbie initially sought out witchcraft simply because it’s so drastically different from the more martial pursuits of his elder siblings. Cameron, on the other hand, may be carrying a great deal of—”
“And we’re here,” Cam announced, talking over the top of Dr. Flyte as he kicked the door closed behind him. “Which means you can stop talking any time now.”
The mirror huffed. “You and your brother are the ones who started the conversation. I was simply offering my professional insight.”
“Which I found fascinating,” Robbie said lightly. “It’s not your fault Cam can’t appreciate your genius.”
Elena smiled when she heard Cam’s response. “Maybe I could if I wasn’t killing myself hauling that incredibly heavy genius down fifteen miles of hallway.”
“I’ll have you know this frame was hand-carved by blind mystics from the mountains of Barren. Every pound of it is priceless!”
“Of course it is, doctor,” said Elena’s mother smoothly, rolling the empty mirror stand to the appropriate place in the circle. “But you should thank them both for carrying you up here. You remember how stressful it was for you the last time the pages tried to maneuver you up that staircase.”
Dr. Flyte shuddered. “I will never understand what birds find so fascinating about flying. I’m much more comfortable when I’m firmly attached to something solid.”
Robbie set the bottom end of the mirror down on the stand, leaving Cam to lever it upright and secure the fasteners in place. “There now,” her guard said soothingly. “No flying down the stairs or sudden bouts of therapy. We’re both happier.” Then he turned to Elena, flashing her an easy, gentle grin. “You thought we’d drop him, didn’t you?”
She smiled back at him as the knot inside her loosened again. When had the sight of him become such a comfort? “No, I didn’t. I know how responsible Robbie is.” She stood, brushing off her skirt as everyone moved into position. Cam would be near the door, watching everything and making sure they wouldn’t be interrupted. “Robbie, you’ll be between my mother and Dr. Flyte. She’ll be studying energy signatures, Braeth will be looking at the curse’s structure with a magnification spell, Dr. Flyte will be monitoring the the biological effects of the spell on Elena, and I’ll be tracing the energy paths. You’re welcome to offer commentary on any of the tests we’ll be performing.”
Robbie took one quick glance back at his brother before facing the center of the circle. Elena stole one more reassuring glance of her own before turning to her mother. “Is Bishop coming? I know you talked about him possibly wanting to observe.”
The queen’s shoulders tensed for the briefest moment. “He decided against it,” she said quietly.
Elena watched her mother’s face, certain there was far more to it than that. She would definitely need to find time to talk to the elf alone. “Fair enough.” She moved to her own point inside the circle, lifting her hands to activate both spells. “Shall we begin?”
“Hold on,” Cam said, leaning towards the door as if he could hear something on the other side. He opened it, held a murmured conversation with the person on the other side, then moved back to let them in. After a hesitation, Bishop stepped through the door. “My apologies,” the elf said, clearing his throat as he found a place next to Cam. His eyes went to her mother, full of apology and something else Elena didn’t feel she had the right to pry into.
She turned to see her mother’s reaction to this sudden appearance. The queen’s lips were pressed together, holding back words or something even stronger, but her eyes shone as she met Bishop’s. Then she turned to her daughter, giving her the nod to begin.
Nodding back, Elena raised her hands again. She activated the illumination spell first, the faint blue aura of her magic appearing around her as she finished the necessary gesture, then murmured the words for the protection spell. When she shoved both hands downward, palms flat, the spell flared upward briefly in a wall of shimmering golden light before vanishing again.
The shadows deepened against the skylights, darkening the room even further. Then Elena activated the projection spell, designed to make magical energies visible so they could be studied and manipulated more easily. It was harder to manipulate magic without the structure of a spell or pre-established guide, but working with the raw energy was the only way to create a new curse or spell. It was also a diagnostic tool, designed to study never-before-seen spells and curses to figure out how they work.
As it always did, the projection of Elena’s own curse formed around her body, a visual representation of how profoundly it had trapped her. As if she were adjusting the lens on a magical scope, Elena murmured a key word that allowed her to shift the projection far enough that she could step outside it to get a better look.
As she stared at the all-too-familiar image of a large, impossibly complex knot glowing in the air in front of her, Elena felt the world rock under her feet.
The last time she had seen the curse, both the knot and the tendrils shooting out from it in all directions were stretched tight and completely still. Now the thing seemed almost alive, the different strands of her aunt’s magic sliding restlessly against one another. Pulses of energy shot back and forth inside some of the individual strands, coming in from the different tendrils and zipping around before shooting back out again along a different strand. The curse’s outer shields flickered in and out, as if overloaded by everything that was happening.
It was Robbie who broke the silence. “That’s terrifying,” he murmured. “I know I’m not as familiar with sorcery, but aren’t cast spells supposed to give off only a quiet hum of magic? There’s a big burst when it’s activated, but nothing like this.”
“You’re correct.” The chance to impart information helped Dr. Flyte recover. “Once a sorcerer’s spell is completed, it generally leaks even less ambient energy than witchcraft. This— I’ve only ever seen its like in spells that are actively being constructed.”
“Or dismantled,” Elena breathed, eyes widening as she heard the words she certainly hadn’t meant to say. She resisted a childish impulse to clap her hand over her mouth.
“We cannot be certain of that.” Braeth’s voice, completely free of emotion, seemed more otherworldly than usual. “This could simply be an attempt to strengthen the curse, or activate it early.”
He carefully used no names or even gender pronouns. Elena’s aunt was the most obvious suspect—no one else would have such easy access to the curse, or even know enough about it to have this kind of effect. But why would her aunt bother with a pre-emptive strike? She’d waited almost eighteen years for her revenge—surely she could wait a little longer.
And if it was indeed an attempt to stop the curse, the question of why it was happening now still needed to be answered. Her aunt having a sudden change of heart after all these years and wanting to make amends made for a lovely story, but not a terribly practical one.
Elena shook herself, forcing her mind back to the task at hand. “I’m going to follow the energy pulses,” she announced, giving herself an order as much as she was informing everyone else. She prepared a simple tracking spell, the kind used in charms to help parents keep track of their children, then shot it into the nearest pulse of light.
Everything else was pushed aside as she followed the pulse, pinging along a serpentine path in the upper levels of the curse. It stayed far away from the area of the core, though nothing in the tracker suggested why, and disappeared along the same strand it had entered by. Interested now, she sent a tracking spell into another pulse. It, too, avoided the core, and Elena set her jaw and forcibly nudged the next spell directly at the core. When it hit, the spell smashed against an invisible barrier and ricocheted in the opposite direction. Immediately, she felt dizzy, swaying slightly as the world spun around her.
“Elena?” It was her mother’s voice, sharp with worry. “What just happened? Are you all right?”
“I registered a spike.” Dr. Flyte’s voice was equally firm. “Who just made direct contact with the curse?”
“It was me. I tried to access the core, and it bit back.” She paused, realizing what her mother’s immediate response probably meant, and fought a twinge of guilt over forgetting that her mother was also affected by the spell. “Did you feel the counterstrike, or just see me react?”
“I felt disorientated, and after our discussion I decided the curse was the most likely culprit.” The technical nature of the discussion seemed to steady her mother. “I think it would be best for all of us not to try that little experiment again, however.”
“The question I find myself wrestling with is why the curse does not seem to be tied to your mother, despite the echo effect that is often the result of such a tie.” Braeth spun the curse projection to get a better look at it. “None of the tendrils are even attempting to reach out for her.”
“Was the effect on the queen part of the original intention of the curse, or a side effect?” Robbie asked, his voice soft. “Because when a witch’s spell has accidental side effects, they’re most often found in the core. It’s the one part you can’t fix as easily.”
For a minute, everyone in the circle went silent. “Well, there’s one way to test the theory,” her mother said finally, lifting up her skirts and stepping into the circle even as everyone else moved to stop her.
The second her foot touched the inside of the circle’s boundaries, thin streams of teal and purple light flared out from between the tendrils from of the curse’s knot. The unfurled tendrils were drawn toward the queen, as if pulled, while the knot itself went chillingly still.
Everyone moved at once.
The queen stepped back, and Braeth and Robbie reached to help pull her out. Elena, her panic immediately replaced by frustration, moved straight through the projection to push her mother outside of the circle. Once she was back outside the boundaries, the tendrils hit against the wall of the protective spell. The golden light flared, refusing to let the magic pass, and the knot writhed again as the tendrils retreated back into their original positions.
“Well,” Braeth said. “That was interesting.”
Her mother, however, was still staring at the knot as if she’d seen a ghost. “It is Ariadne.” Her voice was strange. “I was right about her using the blood.”
Elena felt a chill, the frustration that had been building over her mother’s risk smothered at the mention of her aunt. “That’s why the tendrils attacked you?”
The queen took a deep breath, steadying herself. “I don’t think it was an attack. Ariadne’s magic passed through mine to touch the curse, so my energy was familiar to them. It makes sense that they would be drawn to me.” Her control faltered, the bitterness and grief slipping out. “Ariadne always said our magic was compatible. It’s what made me the perfect assistant.”
“So now we know who is responsible for the alterations to the curse.” Dr. Flyte used his therapy voice, designed to calm and analyze. “The next question is why Ariadne would even attempt to alter the curse at this point. None of the effects we’re seeing correlate to anything that might strengthen the curse, unless something went terribly wrong on her end.”
“I would guess an enormous power surge.” Braeth deepened the shadows against the skylight, bringing the knot into even clearer focus. “But any sorceress with even a modicum of training would know that would only wreak havoc on a complex structure such as this.”
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