Betrothed

by Lola White

Ileana’s thoughts slowed. “I thought magic couldn’t touch you. Christiana’s spell barely fazed you.”

  “The pressure is pushing me. It’s not hurting me, but it’s too heavy to hold back.” As if to prove her words, Georgie’s hips slid to the very edge of the step. “Use your magic! If we fall we’ll break our necks.”

  It was a long way down. Forcing concentration through her shock and fear, Ileana closed her eyes and gathered her power. A cooling silver flow rose up from the depths of her soul, helping her to focus and bringing her a sense of strength.

  It was more difficult than she’d thought possible to slip her magic into the rushing river of their attacker’s spell. Carefully, Ileana threaded it into every available space, creating a tapestry of light that wavered before her eyes when she opened them. Once it was woven through the attacker’s, her magic took on a life of its own.

  Ileana’s power was strong enough that her magic sliced right up the middle of the spell. Silver bowed and arced, tiny gold flares sputtered in the depths. Metallic light frayed and snapped as if it was a fragile thread. Georgie sucked in oxygen and braced her legs against the lower step. Ileana sent another surge of magic winging up the stairs.

  The attack immediately cut off, the magic gone without a trace. Georgie flopped back, awkwardly draped over the risers as she pulled her shaking arm to her chest. She flexed her fingers and stared at the ceiling, her lips pulled into a thin line. Ileana lifted to her knees and shrugged the pain from her shoulders. The ache went clear down to her bones.

  Ileana was dying to comment on the colors of the flow. Most witches’ personal magic was silver but, when their magic comingled, Matches wielded gold. Their attacker had bits of both. Ileana wanted to tell Georgie all about it and ask her opinion, but to do so would reveal her secret. Ileana was trapped by her need to guard her talents.

  Georgie looked like she was already contemplating her own opinions, anyway. Her eyes were wide but glazed with distraction. Her jaw was firm. Ileana could practically hear her mental wheels turning.

  “You took care of that quickly, once you pulled yourself together,” Georgie finally said. “Does that mean you were the stronger witch, Ileana?”

  She exhaled roughly. “Yes, once I got my magic through the edge of the spell.”

  “What does that mean?”

  Ileana looked for the right words to both explain, and hide her abilities. “The personal magic was strong enough that I might have thought the casting witch was a Match, but it was strange. As if the spell was missing something, or maybe the Match wasn’t nearby.”

  “Hmm. I’ll have to ask Adam about that. He and Chris are very good with spells.”

  Ileana couldn’t help but echo her brother’s suspicions. “It could have been them.”

  “No,” Georgie argued. “If it was, we’d have been dead or badly injured right now. Their magic would have been too strong to let me keep my grip. We’d be a broken heap at the bottom of the steps.”

  “Unless they were just trying to scare you, or make you think it was someone else.”

  “I know what their magic feels like, Ileana. I may not have my own, but I was raised in the same house as Adam and Chris. I’ve learned a few things over the years.”

  Ileana leaned back against the rail and rubbed her neck. “They have motive. You’ve got to admit that much, at least, Georgie.”

  The Davenold heir pulled a face. “I do wish you all would stop accusing my family of trying to kill me. You were clearly the target of this attack.”

  “Maybe not.” Ileana tried to remember everything, tried to organize her thoughts so that the chronological order of events could be relayed to her brother. “I was reaching for you. I’d just caught up to you, Georgie. A moment before that we weren’t even close.”

  “You think they waited until we were together?”

  “I don’t know.”

  Georgie looked thoughtful as she climbed to her feet. “It’s even less likely that someone’s trying to hurt us both. There isn’t much connection between us except that we’ll be family one day. But why us and not Silviu or Costel?”

  “We’re female.” Ileana also got her feet, only to feel new pains shoot through her back. She began to limp down the stairs. “Maybe that’s the connection.”

  “I’m a Davenold.” Georgie drifted after her slowly. “The Levys wouldn’t dare. My money’s on your grandfather. He’s the only villain I can think of with a connection to us both.”

  “I don’t think he’d kill me.” Ileana’s words were bitter. “Half-kill me, yes, but he’s too interested in using me as a betrothal pawn to do me in.”

  “That was before. If you marry Eliasz, you’re out of Alexandru’s reach. And besides, that strategy has already lost its usefulness.” Georgie grimaced in apology—and, Ileana thought, perhaps pity—as she said, “None of the other witching Families expects Alexandru to let a betrothal go very far. They expect him to break it, so less are interested in forming a match.”

  “I still don’t think he’s the only suspect.” Ileana shrugged, hoping she was right.

  “No,” Georgie agreed. “There’s a whole house full.”

  “Well then, let’s go see who is already at lunch.”

  “Excellent plan.”

  Except when they walked into the dining room, Alexandru was seated between Costel and Vasile at the far end of the table. Judging by the amount of food on his plate, he’d been there a while.

  With a sigh, Ileana shifted out of the way of a little old lady who entered on their heels and took her seat at Eliasz’s side.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Silviu

  “I’m beginning to dread mealtimes.”

  Silviu glanced at Christiana out of the corner of his eye. Her soft words were accompanied by an even softer shiver and he wondered what percentage of her mannerisms was simply an act for his benefit.

  Truth be told, he was beginning to dread mealtimes too. First, the two women he loved above all others had almost been killed at breakfast. Then, hours ago, the same two women had come to lunch pale and shaking, though Georgeanne had done her best to hide her anxiety.

  At first, he’d thought they were nervous about lunch, but he’d quickly realized Georgie would never let such a thing publicly discomfit her. She’d bolted with her cousins as soon as the midday meal was over, so he’d had no choice but to intimidate the answers to his questions out of his sister.

  Rage and fear battled in his blood at the thought of how close, yet again, he’d come to losing them.

  Before he commented on Christiana’s observation, he let his eyes rove over the dinner table, carefully noting his grandfather’s position close to the center, incongruously seated between Vasile and Costel. The rest of the seating arrangements followed a male-female alternation.

  At the opposite end of the table, Georgeanne, Eliasz and Ileana were clustered around Daniel, seated at the head. Tonight, Silviu was stuck with Christiana, and Fredrik, who was presiding over the foot.

  In his own home. No matter that Daniel was the Father, Silviu knew that must rankle the head of the tertiary branch.

  He turned a watchful glare on the lesser Davenold heir. “You know Ileana and Georgie were attacked this afternoon?”

  “Georgie told me.” Christiana took a small sip of her wine.

  Fredrik, seated between them, clenched his fingers around his fork. “I promise you I will get to the bottom of this.”

  The woman shrugged, either unconcerned or unimpressed. “To be honest, sir, Adam and I tried to find the source of the magic used, but everything is jumbled in this house. There are odd surges of power followed by even odder lulls that would make me think none of the Levys have any magic, if I didn’t know better.”

  Silviu had encountered the same difficulty when he’d investigated, as well. “Most of their men aren’t strong. No offense, Fredrik. Christiana, you’re right. The sometimes-there, sometimes-not magic is confusing to the senses.”

 
“As you say,” the Levy man began somewhat stiffly, “our men are more politically motivated than magically. But I have a hard time believing any in my Family would commit such an atrocious act against our guests.”

  “Ileana won’t be a guest after she marries Eliasz.” Silviu transferred his watchful gaze to his host. “Are there any here who object to the match?”

  “Your grandfather,” Fredrik said, meeting Silviu’s eyes steadily.

  “He has no reason to kill his own granddaughter. If he was of a mind to, he’d have done it years ago.” Silviu refrained from telling either of his conversational partners how close Alexandru had come, however. That was Lovasz Family business.

  “He’s still my prime suspect.” Christiana smiled and raised her eyebrows. “After all, it could be that Georgeanne’s the target, and we all know he doesn’t approve of your match to a Bane matriarch.”

  Without anger, because he silently admitted her accusation had merit, Silviu turned to Chris. Choosing his words for maximum impact and watching her closely to evaluate her reaction, he threw his own accusations. “Or it could be you. You are her direct competition for your Family’s power, after all.”

  “Are you still on that?” She rolled her eyes.

  “You have both motive and talent.”

  “So do you,” she countered, “no matter which woman was the target.”

  Silviu couldn’t have been more shocked. “One is my betrothed and the other is my sister. What motive could I possibly have to harm either one?”

  “Sympathy has been known to be quite an incentive during elections.” Another cold smile pulled the woman’s lips. “Or perhaps you don’t like the Families your father is so desperately trying to hitch your wagon to. Or perhaps you want to start a war, considering how magically powerful the Lovaszes are. You would, no doubt, believe your Family to have an advantage in such a situation.”

  Fredrik sputtered on a sip of wine. Silviu ignored him. “The Davenolds are just as strong. Both alliances, to your Family and the Levys, are advantageous to my own aspirations. You’ll have to stretch your narrow-minded conclusions a bit further, darling.”

  Christiana’s eyes flashed as she leaned in and lowered her voice. “Maybe you simply don’t want to be stuck with a Bane witch for the rest of your life. Marriage is forever in the witching world. ‘Til death do you part.”

  “You should know. A warning,” he murmured, no end of menace in his tone. “There’s a rumor going around that you disposed of your first husband. Keep saying things like that, and I’ll start to believe them.”

  Her smile only grew wider. “My first husband had a heart attack. No doubt due to the stress of maintaining a wife at the same time he kept two other mistresses. Men should really learn to pace themselves.”

  “I need Georgie.” Silviu narrowed his eyes. “But if she dies, you would automatically take the position of heir to your Family. You would become the Mother by default.”

  Christiana shook her head, almost sadly. “Only if Madeleine chooses me. There are others who are also in line.”

  He knew this to be true, but after years of sitting through lessons the Davenold Mother organized for him, he had an idea of how her mind worked. It was uncannily like his father’s. “You would be the only granddaughter of the primary branch left to inherit,” he pointed out. “Madeleine would never choose a cousin over you.”

  “You think?” Christiana leaned back in her chair defensively. “Should I tell you what my grandmother’s reaction would be if I killed Georgie in another patriarchal Family’s home?”

  Silviu pushed harder. “Probably a public slap on the wrist and a secret award ceremony for taking out the Family shame.”

  “My God, what you really think of us comes out!” Christiana snatched her wine glass with rigid fingers. “My cousin has been thoroughly groomed to take over as Mother, in spite of being Bane, and maybe because of it. I don’t know how things work in your Family—though I can guess—but the Davenolds don’t label our own blood deficient and send them to their death.”

  “How novel of you.” Silviu couldn’t hold back the bitterness in his words, though he did manage to temper it with a touch of indifference.

  She raised her glass. “My Family is superior in all ways.”

  Silviu huffed impatiently. “Please don’t pretend to a perfection you don’t have. I’m growing damned tired of the three of you acting as if the Fatherhouses are all evil. As if the witches on this side of the Schism are nothing more than manipulative, power-hungry women abusers, while the Motherhouses treat everyone with utmost respect. Fairness for all.”

  Her smile was lethal. “Well, if the shoe fits.”

  “Please,” he spat. “Georgeanne isn’t the only witch that’s had dealings on both sides of the divide. Adam is the only male amongst the matriarchs I’ve seen treated so well. And we both know that’s only because he’s your twin and Madeleine raised him as she raised you.”

  “Your women are—”

  Silviu snapped forward with no thought as to how his motion would seem to the crowd at the table. For once, he gave free rein to his outrage with no concessions for diplomacy. “You have been handed things that very few others on either side of the Schism will ever receive. You are the oldest granddaughter of the most influential Mother in centuries. Do not presume to know how others are treated, princess. Ask your own cousins how they fare before you make such accusations about the patriarchal women.”

  “Well said,” Fredrik murmured. “Now if you could both please refrain from adding any more drama to our gathering?”

  Their host’s interruption pulled Silviu back into his political persona. There was a noticeable absence of conversation amongst the diners. Silviu’s head snapped up to meet Fredrik’s warning gaze before he twisted to glance down the table. Georgie stared at him with a question in her dark eyes while Daniel Levy watched them too closely for Silviu’s comfort. He sent them both an easy smile before turning back to his own dinner grouping.

  He elevated his chin. “My apologies.”

  Fredrik waved his words away. “You are worried for both your betrothed and your sister. I understand. I am as well, in addition to being flat-out terrified, if you must know the truth.”

  “News flash for you both,” Christiana interjected. “I feel the same way. No matter what you think, Silviu, I would never try to harm Georgie in a patriarchal household. It would only weaken my Family.”

  He still didn’t believe her, but he made no comment. It was, in fact, the perfect place for her to try ousting her competition. Georgie’s death could be blamed on the patriarchs with no one the wiser, and he knew Christiana would immediately be blooded as Madeleine’s heir.

  “Neither would I try to harm her, ever,” he said instead. “Without even taking my feelings into consideration, there is the fact that our marriage is a match of extreme political importance. Our match will span the Schism and help move our communities toward a more complete understanding of each other.”

  “Fine,” Christiana grudgingly conceded. “It’s not you, and it’s not me. I haven’t found anything and I don’t know where else to look.”

  “I have trouble considering the villain to be a Levy,” Fredrik repeated his earlier protests. “I tell you, this is most distressing for me.”

  Silviu gathered all the gentleness he could find and put it into his tone. “The attacks didn’t start until we came here.”

  Christiana gave him unexpected, yet dubious, support. “He’s right. We had no trouble in the Lovasz household, though an argument could be made as to the obviousness of such a setting.”

  “Georgeanne is well respected by the Levys.” Fredrik was adamant. “I cannot imagine my own Family could bring harm to her.”

  “What about my sister, then?” Silviu once again leaned forward, but this time he knew his anger was not radiating out for all the diners to witness. His control was absolute. “She and Eliasz seem to get on well together and suddenly she’s almo
st killed.”

  Christiana turned to their host. “We know Constance Gage-Levy was once supposed to marry him.”

  Fredrik flicked a glance in the woman’s direction. “You are mistaken. Her mother had dreams, perhaps, but I would never marry my only son to such a weak partner. She could offer him nothing of benefit.”

  Both Silviu and Christiana sat back in their chairs in acknowledgment of Fredrik’s truth. Witches didn’t marry for love, they married for political alliance. Silviu couldn’t see how a match between Eliasz and Constance could further the goals of the tertiary branch, let alone the whole Family. Obviously, the former Father hadn’t seen such a thing, either.

  “What benefit are you looking for?” Christiana asked. “How far do you believe your son, a man who won’t even inherit this branch of the Family, can go?”

  “My line has lost the primary status. I won’t bore you with the details.” Fredrik slid a hard look up the table toward Daniel, who was thankfully no longer paying attention. “Suffice it to say, we are not angling to lead the Family, but I’ve done all I can to give Eliasz every advantage in our world. He’s intelligent and magically capable. There is no reason he can’t represent the Levys at the Council, and one day wield a great deal of influence. What advantage could Constance bring to the table?”

  Coldly stated, yet striking truer for the ruthless tone. Silviu met Christiana’s eyes in silent communication. Having Eliasz appointed to the Council was the only way their host could see to elevate his Family branch’s position, as well as his son’s. The inconsequential Gage-Levys were not turning out to be good suspects.

  Silviu tipped his head in concession. “She offers neither a match with a powerful Family nor power in her own right. She’s already a weak Levy. No offense, sir.”

  Fredrik continued with a dismissive wave. “None could doubt that your sister would bring my son an advantage. Even being a Lovasz, she is from the primary branch and Daniel has approved the match. They know he would never give permission if the alliance wasn’t favorable.”