With his consent, she placed her hands on the row of wounds just below his ribs. He grimaced as she glowed with energy, and another spell began to weave through the air. I watched it in fascination.
Stephan cleared his throat. “Lord Councilor Elias called an open session as soon as you returned. He sent transports to Lower Aeterna to bring citizens in.”
“Why would he do that?” Silas asked, his face tight with a mixture of either pain or annoyance. “Is something happening in Lower Aeterna?”
“He always has at least three plans in motion,” Stephan said. “I suspect you’re about to walk into one of them.”
Corin shrugged slightly. “He wants an audience. Whatever he’s doing, he wants everyone to know about it.”
The Healer finished, leaving no trace of the claw marks on Silas’s skin. As Silas had said, not even a scar remained. I was impressed. It made me wonder about the other scars on his back. He must have chosen to keep them—perhaps they happened in battle. I also noticed several old scars on the inside of his forearm, running parallel to each other. They were spaced deliberately apart, perhaps from a blade, but they seemed almost decorative. He finished dressing, and my curiosity had to take a back seat.
The Healer bowed and left without a word.
“I can handle him,” Silas asserted. “I’ve done it before.”
“And what about your... ah, guest?” Stephan asked.
I was suddenly aware that lots of eyes were on me. The expressions on the faces around us made it clear everyone was speculating about who I was and what Silas was doing with me. He hadn’t bothered to really explain anything about me or what the Council wanted me for, increasing the mystery.
“Bring her up to speed on the basics, brother,” Silas said. He started to turn away, lowering his voice to speak with Corin.
I grabbed him by the arm before he could get away. “Basics?” I dropped my voice to a harsh whisper, which I hoped only Silas could hear. “We are so far beyond basics here! How am I supposed to convince the Council they don’t want to kill me with the basics? We need a plan, Silas.”
“I don’t have time to teach you everything you’d need to know to negotiate with the Council. Stephan will go over basic etiquette. Your part involves not offending anyone. Let me do the talking... and maybe don’t speak.”
I didn’t find his dig very funny. My panic escalated.
“You need to know about the Council members,” Stephan said, interrupting my rapidly growing fear.
“Fine.” I huffed, resigned to letting Silas do the talking while I crammed more supernatural details into my brain. I suspected there was a maximum capacity for the amount of crazy someone could absorb, and I was pretty confident I’d maxed out already.
“The leader of the Council is Lord Councilor Elias of House Marius. He is Human, and he’ll make the final decisions.” He frowned at Silas’s back. “Whatever that might be about exactly—after input from the other Councilors. The other Human representative is Lord Alaric of House Certus.”
My ears perked up. Silas had said earlier that Alaric controlled access to the Fates. He’d also implied that Alaric would be difficult to deal with.
“Treat them both as you would an Earthen dignitary,” Stephan continued. “Speak when spoken to. Add Lord to everything you say. Try not to ask questions, and let Silas answer if possible.”
“I’m happy not to talk to them at all. That’s easy so far.”
“The rest is harder. The Fae—Lady Treva and Lord Nuada of House d’Nali—will be difficult to appease. If you can avoid addressing them, that would be best. And do not thank them. Putting yourself in the debt of a Fae is tricky. You saw how the Healer reacted.”
“Okay...” So that was why the woman had reacted so strangely, and it confirmed my theory about the Fae’s magic being shades of blue. Humans had yellow flares, and Shifters had red. That included Titus and the Rakken—I suppressed a shiver—but their stolen red magic was tinged with oily black. I was starting to figure some things out.
“That leaves the Shifters. Lord Nero and Lady Octavia are fond of Silas, so they may not be as hostile to you. But they respect strength, so try not to appear weak. Or too aggressive either. You don’t want to be a threat.”
Great, that doesn’t sound complicated at all. “Will they attack me?” I suddenly wished for Ripper back.
He flashed me an amused, but kind, smile. “Not likely. But try not to ask questions,” he reminded me.
“Ready?” Silas asked behind my shoulder, making me jump.
The giant doors opened, and Silas moved toward them. “One more thing,” Silas said, pausing to turn back. “Under no circumstances should you access your magic.”
“Why can’t I—”
“Just do as you’re told for once,” he commanded.
I glared at his back as we walked through the doors, with Stephan and Commander Corin following close behind. It wasn’t as if I could control the crazy magic. It came over me at the worst times. The only thing of consequence I’d managed was absorbing Titus’s magic—and that had been a life-or-death situation. I reminded myself that I was walking into another one of those and braced myself.
My first impression of the inner chamber was that it was small, but only because of the sheer number of people packed into the tiered seats. Multi-hued energy emanated from so many magic users, it was like staring into the sun and trying not to blink. The room fell eerily silent when we entered.
Silas strode confidently into the auditorium, watched by hundreds of people. I followed him past rows and rows of staring Aeternals and down into the belly of the chamber. We stopped in front of a rounded platform built three feet off the ground. The raised dais where they sat formed a gilded half-circle. The other half of the circle was carved into the wall behind the Councilors, with golden spikes forming a glowing sun. The overall effect placed the Councilors as the radiating power of the center of the universe.
The Councilors sat in pairs, wearing long white robes. The six men and six women each glowed with pure red, blue, or yellow energy, and the combined power of their magic was like a physical presence in the room. Their auras mingled together at the edge of the circle, forming white magic. White, like mine.
“Lord Silas of House Valeron, the Council greets you,” the man in the center chair said loudly. He was a handsome man with chocolate-brown hair and intelligent blue eyes. Somewhere in his mid-thirties, like Silas, the color of his golden energy reflected his humanity.
“Lord Councilor Elias of House Marius, I greet you,” Silas replied flatly. “What does the Council require?”
At his tone, a few of the Councilors shifted in their seats.
Elias’s eyes locked on me. “We wish to discuss your delayed return. But I suspect it has something to do with this lovely guest you’ve brought before us. You may introduce her.”
“This is Lady Maeve of the House O’Neill, an Earthen,” Silas said.
Elias’s sudden smile was way too friendly, like a shark’s. “The Council greets you, Lady Maeve of House O’Neill.”
I was too overwhelmed to think of the appropriate thing to say. Everything Stephan had explained got jumbled in my brain. I wished Silas and I had talked through a strategy. I had no idea what he was planning, and I was out of my depth.
Elias raised his hand, quieting the murmurs of the crowd. A man to his left leaned over and whispered in his ear. The man’s yellow flare meant he was the other Human Councilor, Lord Alaric of House... something. He tossed back long blond hair and glared at us over a strong, hawkish brow.
“Since you are not presenting us a severed head, we must assume you still haven’t found the traitors.” Alaric’s voice was dripping with dry disapproval. “And yet you returned with this Earthen?”
Silas scanned my face and frowned as though weighing his options before he addressed the Councilors again. “Lady Maeve is a descendent of the Lost Sect. To secure her trust, I bound her as my Aegis and vowed to take her t
o a Fate. I hoped she would lead me to the others.”
Wait, what?
The room exploded into surprised chatter. The Guardians waiting around the perimeter of the dais drew their weapons and stepped in unison toward me.
Holy shit. What the hell is the Lost Sect?
“Did you find them?” a man seated to the left of Alaric demanded. Shaved hair on both sides of his head accentuated pointed ears and a slender, sloped nose. His blue aura indicated that he had to be the Fae representative, Lord Nuada d’Nali.
“Where are the defectors hiding?” the Shifter woman, Lady Octavia, asked on the heels of the previous question.
I stared back while she sized me up with a wrinkled nose and an angry scowl.
“What are you doing?” I hissed at Silas. He’d just linked me to a group of defectors! He was trying to get me killed.
Elias’s golden magic flared, and a dome of energy flowed down around us, surrounding the Council and the two of us in a silent bubble. The noise from the crowd disappeared. Elias leaned forward in his seat, his gaze intent. “Where did you find her?”
“In Boston. She has no idea of her true heritage,” Silas continued. “She’s been orphaned—abandoned by her people.”
I stared at Silas in utter shock. I had no idea what he was talking about, but he seemed to be doing a damn good job of feeding me to the sharks.
“Look,” I interrupted, “I have no idea what this Lost Sect is, but I can promise you I’m not one of them.”
Silas finally glanced at me, and he didn’t look happy that I’d spoken up for myself.
“The magic isn’t even mine!”
No one seemed convinced. Elias scowled in confusion. “What does she mean?” he asked Silas.
Silas waved his hand, dismissing my argument. “She can see the patterns of magic within a conjuring.” Silas paused, gathering everyone’s attention. “And her flare is white.”
Every single one of the Councilors sat forward in their seats, their eyes locked on the space around me as though waiting for my aura to manifest right then.
Elias rubbed his fingers across his lower lip. “Well, that is interesting indeed.”
I held up my hands. Silas had taken the little bits he’d learned about me and twisted them. The Council didn’t know the whole picture, and his story about me being part of some group of defectors would get me killed. “No, no! You don’t understand. I have someone else’s magic stuck inside me. His name was Marcel, and the Brotherhood murdered him for his powers. There was a... a spell that got all messed up.” Shit, what is the name of that spell? “A Transference! Maybe Marcel was part of this group, but I’m not! I don’t want anything to do with this mess.”
The Councilors stared at me with greedy eyes.
“What Transference?” Alaric demanded.
Lord Councilor Elias frowned, and I got the impression the other man had spoken out of turn. Alaric leaned over and whispered in Elias’s ear again.
“The Council recognizes the Lord Magister’s right to inquiry,” Elias said.
Alaric’s head tilted haughtily. “What do you mean, the Transference got ‘messed up’?”
The whole Council stared me down, intent on the blood in the water. Silas’s face was tight, and he shook his head slightly. I swallowed thickly. Silas was clearly trying to get me killed, or he was a complete idiot who might get me accidentally killed. Either way, it was time for Plan B. I had to convince the Council I wasn’t one of the defectors. I couldn’t let them believe I was a member of this Lost Sect.
“The Brotherhood tried a Transference to steal Marcel’s powers.” I willed them to believe me. “But somehow, he turned it around. Marcel stole power from the Brotherhood and transferred it all to me.”
Alaric’s eyes widened. “How is that possible? I’ve never heard of such a thing.”
“I don’t know!” My heart beat so fast in my chest, I could barely breathe. Adrenaline pumped through my veins until my vision seemed to vibrate with each frantic beat of my heart. I was starting to lose my grip on the tightly coiled energy inside of me.
“How much power do you have?” Alaric asked.
“How much power do you have?” Titus muses.
I don’t give him the satisfaction of a response. His men have tied me to a chair. The talisman they’ve placed around my neck is blocking my magic, and all of my focus is wrapped around it. They’ll have to remove the pendant before they begin, and I might have a few seconds to react.
I’ll show him how much power I have when I rip him apart.
Titus’s magic flares. “You can’t hide them, Marcel.”
Then I see the knife in his hand. The men behind him start chanting louder, and the energy of their conjuring builds.
Titus approaches me.
With my heart pounding, I fight against the restraints. They dig into the skin around my bleeding wrists. I jerk like a hooked fish, and the chair screeches against the cement floor.
Titus grabs the crook of my elbow, pinning my bound arm against the chair, and draws the knife down the length of my forearm. My hoarse scream sounds weak even to my own ears, and black tunnels close around my vision. The pain is too much. I can’t black out. I can’t black out.
Titus retreats long enough to draw the blade across his own palm. I sway in my seat.
The medallion is lifted off my neck like a weight from my chest. I inhale, shocked at the sudden warmth of magic. It saturates me to my bones, cradling me like a cocoon.
I reach for it, but their dark magic hits me like a wall of ice, ripping away the warmth.
“You’ll never find them!” I yelled.
Every member of the Council flinched at my harsh outcry. I clamped my mouth shut, appalled at my outburst. Those had been Marcel’s last words in the vision, and I’d just screamed them at the Council.
“Your guest will speak to the Council with proper respect,” said the Shifter I guessed to be Lord Nero. He bared his teeth at me, and the Guardians on the ground edged closer, ready for a fight.
I tensed, prepared to dodge an attack. Shit! Get a hold of yourself, Maeve. I didn’t want to lose myself in another vision. I had to calm down.
Silas glared at me, his jaw tight and his nostrils flared. He didn’t say anything, but the disapproving expression helped pull me back into my own head. I gritted my teeth, making an effort to rein in my anger. After losing control and killing those Shifters on the side of the highway, it would have been a disaster to give in to the rage boiling beneath my skin and use my magic in front of the Council.
“I’ve already questioned her,” Silas said. “She has no memory of her heritage, no family, and no idea how to use the powers transferred to her by the Brotherhood’s last victim.”
Alaric spoke up again. “So you cannot lead us to the Lost Sect? You have no knowledge of them?”
“I’m not...”
Every single Councilor stared at me with intense concentration. They all wanted me to be someone I wasn’t so they could use me. They wanted to steal my magic, and my life, for their politics.
Finally, I looked at Silas. His intense expression urged me to go along with his claims. But he’d played me to earn my trust, all so he could tell the Council my secrets. He was one of them, just like Father Mike had warned me. I squared my shoulders. “No. I can’t. I’m not one of them.”
Elias raised his hand, drawing everyone’s attention. “Then she is of no use to us,” he said with finality.
I exhaled in relief. They believed me.
“Proceed with a Transference and collect the misplaced powers within her for the Citizen Source.”
Chapter Thirteen
By the time I realized I had said all the wrong things, I had a Guardian on each side, grabbing me by the arms.
I twisted toward Silas. “Do something!” Maybe he’d been trying to protect me after all, but he’d dug me a hole instead. He wasn’t supposed to let this happen.
Silas tensed and took a half step towar
d the dais. “If she is a descendent of the Lost Sect, her abilities are worth more than any raw power you could transfer out of her. With training, she could learn to absorb magic at greater levels than any Harvester in Aeterna. I’ve already seen her call magic from a great distance. She’s a greater asset to the Council alive.”
“The stolen magic is an asset that can be leveraged immediately, without risk,” Lady Treva countered. The Fae Councilor’s long blond hair fell in braids on either side of her neck. It should have made her appear childish, but she conveyed authority through the power of her stare.
“This woman came before the Council, seeking help,” Silas insisted. “She is an innocent, deserving of the Council’s protection.”
Elias held up his hand. The Councilors quieted as he stroked his index finger across his lower lip and considered Silas and me for almost a full minute.
I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from speaking. I’d screwed everything up. Silas had been trying to establish the value of keeping me alive, and they seemed to be reconsidering the Transference. I stared at the Lord Councilor and waited for him to decide my fate.
Finally, Elias said, “For the good of our citizens, we cannot afford to lose this opportunity. If she cannot lead us to the others, then we have but one option. We will take every precaution to spare her life, but the Transference will go forward.”
I stared at him, numb with shock. The room around me began to spin slowly as I digested my death sentence. My breathing was too fast and shallow. The room was too crowded. So many faces stared at me, whispering and speculating behind the wall of magic separating us.
A dizzy array of energy and color all blurred together. I had to get out of there. I couldn’t just stand there and let them take me. I wouldn’t go down without a fight.
“If the Council won’t see reason,” Silas said, recovering faster than I could, “I invoke the right of House Valeron to grant her sanctuary as an Aegis under my protection, according to the law of Aeterna, set forth by my forebears.”
My attention refocused on Silas, and air caught in my lungs.
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