by D. G. Swank
“That’s my sisters’ favorite.”
“They obviously have great taste. Can’t wait to meet them.” I sucked in a breath of surprise, and he grinned. “I hope this isn’t just a jail cell one-night stand for you. I plan to continue this after we leave this godforsaken place.”
That sobered me. “What if we don’t get out?”
He lifted his hand to my forehead and smoothed the wrinkles from my frown. “We’re getting out of this, Rowan Whelan. I didn’t just find the woman of my dreams to lose her to some psycho.”
To my surprise, I felt blood rush to my face.
His grin spread. “You don’t seem like the blushing type, but this isn’t the first time I’ve seen you blush.”
“Don’t get used to it.”
He winked. “Maybe I’m the man of your dreams too.”
He was, but I wasn’t about to admit it. Blushing was enough vulnerability for the moment.
“You were right earlier about needing a plan,” he said, “and I came up with one, because we really do need to get the hell out of here before Donall comes back.”
“Go on,” I prodded.
“The nurse always checks on me before lights out. When she comes in tonight, we’ll subdue her. You’ll glamour yourself to look like her and make me invisible, then we’ll sneak out of the building. If she has her keys on her, we’ll take her car. If not, we’ll hide in the woods and make our way to the main road.”
I pursed my lips as I considered it. “It’s a great plan except for two parts. Lisa always came in to check on you because you’d been uncooperative and had the shit beaten out of you. You seem pretty healthy now.” I waggled my eyebrows. “You have plenty of stamina.” I said waggling my eyebrows. “Second—”
I cut off when I noticed his eyes darkening with lust. Then his mouth covered mine, just as demanding as before. I knew what could follow that kiss, and oh gods, I wanted more. If we hadn’t been in a life-and-death situation, I would have taken it.
“Maybe when they bring our dinner,” he said as he pulled back, his face inches from mine as I tried to remember what I’d been arguing.
He quirked up a devilish grin that snapped me out of my lusty daze.
“That’s presuming they bring us dinner. And what about your leg?” I said. “There are numerous complications, and that’s but one of them—”
“If Lisa shows up, we’ll make her heal me,” he cut in.
I shook my head. “Even if we could count on her to come and to be willing to heal you despite you being so much healthier now, we still have our one very major problem. Lisa can’t heal you in here, just as I can’t use my glamour in here. Our magic won’t work in this room.”
He was silent for a moment, then said. “So it’s a fluid plan. We’ll have to ad-lib and be ready for anything.” He grinned. “You are such a planner.”
“And how would you know?” I asked, taken by surprise.
“I’ve seen your YouTube show, Ro,” he said as though that explained everything.
“You mean heard,” I teased.
His grin spread. “What a fool I was not to watch, but even just listening I know that you always have everything prepped and ready. You never leave anything to chance. I bet you’re a list maker too.”
He had me pegged. “More people should try making lists. I sure wish my sisters would.”
He kissed me again, this time slow and lazy, and all I wanted to do was curl up with him and forget the world beyond our door, but our moment outside of time had ended. Voices were approaching our door. I quickly sat up, smoothing my clothes. I didn’t want to give them anything more to use against me. Logan sat up too, his body tense.
“Be ready, Rowan,” he said in a low voice.
I turned to him in surprise. Did he intend for us to make our escape now?
Two guards walked into the room, and for the first time, they were carrying guns, which were drawn and pointed toward Logan. I should have realized they’d do something like this, because they couldn’t use magic in here either. Arthur followed them into the room and stood between them, his hands folded neatly in front of his waist.
“Rowan, I hope you’ve had a few hours to relax and refresh,” he said, acting as though he hadn’t had me locked into a room all afternoon and evening. “It’s time to resume our lessons.”
Logan put a hand on my knee, keeping me in place. “I’ll be going with her.”
Arthur looked amused. “I’m afraid that’s not possible, but if all goes well, she’ll return to you within a few hours.”
“See,” Logan said, drawing out the word, “the phrase if all goes well isn’t gonna work for me.”
Arthur beamed, clearly enjoying Logan’s display of protectiveness. “Mr. Gillespie, I’m afraid you have no choice in the matter.”
Logan started to rise, but the guards extended their guns, ready to shoot.
I turned and put my hands on Logan’s chest, pushing him back down. Pressing my forehead to his, I whispered, “Don’t do this, Logan. I’ll be okay.”
Worry filled his eyes. “You don’t know that, Ro.”
I leaned into his ear and whispered, “If you keep this up, they will shoot you, and I can’t lose you. Please. I’ll be back soon.” I pulled back to look into his eyes, and after a long moment, he bobbed his head with a slight nod. He didn’t like it, but he trusted me.
Giving him a tight smile, I turned to slip on my shoes then got to my feet before he could have second thoughts. “Let the lessons begin.”
It came out a little more sarcastic than I’d intended, but Arthur didn’t seem to notice. He radiated with happiness. “I love this eager attitude. Follow me.”
He turned and walked out of the room, leaving me no choice but to follow, the guards close on my heels. Two more guards were standing on either side of the door, both holding guns and looking ready to spring into action.
So they’d beefed up security. While that was probably a good idea on their part, it was bound to make things more difficult for our loosely planned escape. Hopefully, I’d come back with useable information about the building’s security and layout—information that could help us come up with a better escape plan. But first I had to get through Arthur’s lesson.
Arthur’s lesson. The seed of excitement germinating in my gut filled me with guilt. There was no denying that part of me hoped there was more to my magical abilities. Was it shallow of me to want to be more than what I was? To be as special as my sisters? Maybe. Maybe not. I knew this was no altruistic project for Donall or Arthur.
If I discovered anything new in my abilities, I had to keep it from them.
We walked down the hall toward the staircase, but instead of going down the stairs, Arthur headed up. The guards at the door to Logan’s room stayed put, and the other two followed us. When we reached the fourth floor, Arthur opened the stairwell door and motioned for me to walk through. “After you.”
“More new scenery?” I asked, realizing how stupid it sounded, but my nerves were starting to get the best of me. Logan’s life was on the line.
“There’s no need to be nervous, Rowan,” Arthur said, placing a gentle touch to the small of my back, steering me across the hall toward a closed room. “Everything I do is to help you.”
A shiver ran down my spine. “My father used to say the same thing.”
He stopped at the door, his hand on the knob as he looked into my eyes. “Did you trust your father, Rowan?”
I bristled at the question. “That’s none of your business.”
“On the contrary. We were friends. I feel it’s my duty to look out for you.”
I shot a glance to the guards who stood about six feet back, then shot arrows of hate at Arthur. “If you were looking out for me, you’d be helping me escape,” I whisper-hissed. “Not helping that lunatic take over the world.”
Sympathy filled his eyes. “Oh, Rowan. You were always so cynical of everything. It’s blinded you to what’s right in front of you.
”
I sucked in a breath as my heart skipped a beat. “How would you know? You don’t even know me.”
“Your father told me more about you than you realize. He was quite proud of you.”
“Proud of me?” I asked in disgust. “Why would he be proud of me?”
“Pure ability isn’t the only thing of importance, my child,” he said as he pushed open the door. “Sometimes a person’s cunning can make up for what they lack in magic skill.”
The room was brightly lit with a conference table in the middle and chairs pushed around it. The table was covered with an assortment of objects. A stapler. A doll. A plastic food storage bowl. A single high-heeled shoe. A spiral notebook. A candle. A set of keys. They were completely mundane objects, yet they made no sense when lumped together. My anxiety ratcheted up several levels, but I followed him in, pretending to be unaffected.
“I suppose you’re wondering what this is about,” he said in a serious tone.
I was so nervous, I couldn’t bring myself to come up with a smart-ass comment, so I said nothing.
“I’m sure you saw us investigating your garden,” he said as he walked to the other side of the table. When I didn’t answer, his gaze rose to mine.
I lifted an eyebrow and gave him a haughty look. “I’m not sure what that has to do with the book.”
A tiny grin tipped up his lips. “You’re about to find out.” He lifted his hand in a gesture of invitation. “Come, Rowan. Join me.”
“I’m good over here,” I said from the other side of the table.
His eyes darkened, and I realized I’d pressed my luck with Arthur. I couldn’t afford to piss him off. If Logan and I were going to escape, we had to leave before Donall came back. That wouldn’t happen if I was locked in a closet.
Lowering my face to appear meek—and to hide my furious gaze—I walked around the table and joined him.
He turned his attention to the still-open door, then addressed the two guards. “You may wait in the hall.”
One of the guards began to protest, “But—”
Arthur shot him a dark glare. “Leave.”
I stiffened at his threatening tone and steeled my backbone. Just one more reminder that Arthur was capable of rage.
“Examine the objects, Rowan,” Arthur said in a soft tone, his anger fading. “Tell me what’s special about them.”
“Is this like that game where you pick which object doesn’t belong?” I asked in a sarcastic tone.
“And if that is the game, why do you assume only one doesn’t belong?” he asked, the lilt of his voice sounding ominous despite his good-natured tone.
Touché.
“Walk around the table and study them,” he said, taking a step back.
I remained in place for the moment, taking in everything. I couldn’t help feeling like this was a trick, yet I had no choice but to play.
The items were all spaced equally apart. The stapler and notebook were office supplies, but I wasn’t sure how the doll, bowl, shoe, candle, and keys fit together. Resisting the urge to sigh, I started to walk around the table.
“Can I pick them up?” I asked as I stopped next to the keys.
“No,” he said, sounding amused. “You may only visually examine them for now.”
Which likely meant one or more of them were glamoured.
Valerians used glamouring mostly to keep our world hidden from humans, but it worked on witches and mages too. The devil was in the details, so I only had to examine them carefully to find details that were off.
For the next fifteen minutes, I slowly made my way around the table, studying the items until I felt semiconfident I knew what Arthur was looking for.
I stopped and met his gaze. He’d been watching me carefully the whole time, his eyes digging into the back of my neck. “The shoe, the bowl, and the notebook are glamoured.”
His eyebrows shot up. “And what makes you sure of that?”
“The bottom of the heel doesn’t have a sole on it. The bowl doesn’t have any of the symbols you’d see embedded into the bottom of a storage bowl. And the notebook doesn’t have a back cover.”
His brows lowered and his mouth pressed into a thin line. “You’re correct. They’ve been glamoured. But the other items have been glamoured too. While the imperfections are good clues most people would overlook, sometimes a talented mage or witch will get the details right. Just like your garden. You’re more talented than you realize, Rowan. Have you shown that level of detail to anyone on the Small Council?”
“Why would I?” I asked, trying to ignore a twinge of satisfaction.
“When was the last time you were evaluated?”
“When I was a teen. By my mother a few months before she died.”
“And were you as good then as you are now?”
I stopped to consider it. “No. I don’t think I really grew into it until a year or two after her death.”
“What’s the most elaborate thing you’ve created through glamour?”
That answer required little thought. “The garden outside.”
“And the next most elaborate?”
“A butterfly,” I said, feeling sad. “It was very detailed and flew around the house. Celeste kept it in her room for weeks until the magic faded.” I smiled. “I’d studied a photo and spent a lot of time on it.”
“Rowan, you’re incredibly special,” he said.
He certainly knew what I wanted to hear.
I shook my head. “My magic only had one purpose: to help hide and protect the book. There’s nothing to hide now, so my magic is pointless.”
He tilted his head slightly. “A new age of magic is on the horizon, Rowan. Magic will no longer be hidden, and there will definitely be a purpose for your skill and expertise. If I’m right about your particular magic, you’ll be in great demand.” He took a step closer. “You will have a position of great power and authority in Donall’s court. He will find you indispensable.”
“He wants me to keep any sort of resistance movement in check? You know the magical community won’t just fall into line.”
“You mean witches?” he asked with a grin.
“Among others.”
Lifting his shoulders into a half shrug, he said, “Perhaps. Your glamouring skills are quite adept—but that’s not the skill I was referring to. I’m sure your true gift is more nuanced, and your ability to glamour details only reinforces my belief.” He pointed to the candle. “Pick it up.”
I told myself he was full of shit, because glamour was glamour. There were no subspecialties, only varying amounts of skill. Every Valerian knew that.
I believed it, truly, and yet I was curious nonetheless.
I picked up the candle, which felt waxy but lighter than what I would expect of a candle of its size and shape—an obvious clue that something was off. I reported my thoughts, and he smiled and nodded, encouraging me to examine the other objects in the same way. I found something off with each of them. The metal of the keys didn’t feel cold. The stapler was too light, just like the candle.
I set the last object down and shook my head, annoyed by Arthur’s latest bout of praise for figuring out which objects were imposters. “My magic has nothing to do with it. Anyone with any observation skills could figure this out.”
“Rowan, how many glamoured objects do you know of that can be picked up and examined?”
I paused, realizing he was right. Glamours were usually like costumes, slapped over whatever the witch or mage was trying to camouflage. While I was capable of making four-dimensional glamours, most witches weren’t. I’d spent a lot of time on taking my magic to the next level, something my mother had insisted was possible.
“These objects were glamoured by some of the best glamouring mages and witches,” he continued.
“You mean the best at your disposal,” I said with a smirk. “Which means they can’t be that great if they’re looking to overthrow the Valerian council to seek more power.”
&
nbsp; It was his turn to look smug. “We have Peter Savage, who has one of the greatest glamouring talents of anyone alive, mage or witch.”
My mouth parted, made mute by my shock. Peter Savage was on the Small Council and was indeed known as one of the best. My father had asked my mother to let me study with him for a month over the summer between my junior and senior year, but she’d refused, saying she could teach me everything I needed to know. But I quickly pulled myself together and said in a smart-ass tone, “Then maybe you should get him to glamour some objects to test me.”
Arthur laughed. “We did.” He bobbed his head toward the stapler in my hands. “He made all of these.”
I set the stapler on the table.
“Back when the Samsites and the Brexors existed, there were witches and mages capable of a great magic that not only allowed them to create highly detailed glamours, but to detect them as well. And not just because of the missed details,” he added when I started to protest. “They could literally see the layers of glamour transposed over what was hidden.”
“I’ve never heard of that,” I said with a sharp shake of my head. “My mother would have told me if she’d known of such a thing. And my father definitely would have.”
“Your father didn’t know,” he said kindly. “But he always thought there was more to you than met the eye. He believed in you, Rowan, and if he’d known about this type of magic back then, he would have helped you come into your full potential much earlier.”
While Arthur was undoubtedly manipulating me, I knew he was right. If my father had suspected I possessed such a rare talent, he would have pushed me hard to develop it. Then again, I wasn’t so sure why Arthur was so sure I was special. Yeah, I could glamour the shit out of things, but that didn’t mean I could see through magic. No one could do that.
“I think I’ve given you a lot to consider,” Arthur said. “Perhaps you need a good night’s sleep and some time to reflect before we start again.”
I nodded, feeling like I was standing on shaky ground.
