Magic Forged (Hall of Blood and Mercy Book 1)

by K. M. Shea

  I froze abruptly as the details of the fight came back. “The seal broke.”

  “I imagine you are referring to the seal on your magic, in which case you are correct.” Killian studied my wrist with puzzled interest. “Though from what I saw—and Celestina reported to me—there was no physical trigger. Do you know what did it?” He finally raised his gaze from my wrist, the red in his eyes more expressed in the flush of sunset bathing my room.

  I leaned into the pillow propping me up and stared at the ceiling. My memory was slowly piecing itself together: the vampire, my injuries, and the overwhelming clarity the full force of magic brought to me. What had I been thinking right before the seal broke?

  Hazily, it returned to me. I had decided I would spill blood and kill the murderous vampire if it meant saving people important to me.

  “No,” I said out loud. “No—it can’t be.”

  Killian was back to inspecting my wrists. “Hm?”

  “Seals can’t be broken by thoughts, can they?” I asked.

  “Can’t they?” Killian returned the question. “Isn’t true love and all of that junk nothing more than inner resolve?”

  “But there’s no way my parents would do this to me.” My voice shook as tears threatened my eyes. “They wouldn’t seal my magic and condemn me to a constant fight against bullies and make the only way out to decide to kill someone. That’s against everything House Medeis stands for!”

  Killian peered at me with interest. “That’s what broke the seal? You decided to kill the vampire.”

  “To save you, Celestina, and Josh—yes.” I flung my free arm over my eyes and held my breath, trying to ward off the sobs that threatened to shake my shoulders.

  How could they do this to me? Why would they do this to me? They were my parents, but it seemed like they did their best to make my life a misery! And why wouldn’t they want me to have stronger magic when they did?

  In my pain, I twitched, automatically squeezing Killian’s hand.

  I was shocked when, after a moment, he returned the squeeze.

  He exhaled deeply. “I can’t believe I am the one suggesting this, but are you certain there isn’t a part of this you’re missing?”

  I kept my arm over my eyes. “Like what?”

  “Isn’t everything done for the House?” Killian asked. “It seems strange that your parents would paralyze the Heir when all of your kind revere the House and model their lives around its existence. Technically, they’ve hurt House Medeis even more than they hurt you in all of this. So perhaps there is a reason behind it all—you just can’t see it yet.”

  I slowly lowered my arm as I mulled over his words.

  He was right. As much as I had come to hate and loathe the saying, “The House comes first.” It had been drilled into all wizards since they could sit up as babies.

  And obviously my magic—or lack of—had a huge effect on House Medeis.

  Was it possible? But what reason could possibly justify all of this? It’s not like Mason could have been plotting already when I was born—he would have been ten!

  The condition for breaking my seal had shaken me, but at least now I didn’t feel like crying. Maybe—when all of this was over—I’d ask Mr. and Mrs. Clark and the other senior wizards. They might know something. And in the meantime, I’d lose myself in training.

  I awkwardly cleared my throat and shifted a little, making the bed creak and my muscles stiffen. “Did you find out anything more about her?”

  Up went one of Killian’s eyebrows. “The murderer? Yes. Her name was Solene—previously Solene Flores. She was turned in the early 1900s by the Flores Family before opting to become an Unclaimed four years ago.”

  “Why’d she leave?”

  “It seems she bucked heads with the Flores Family Elder.” Killian brushed my wrist with his thumb, his touch cool and strangely comforting. “I don’t have certain confirmation of it, but it seems he disliked her and made her time with the Family…difficult.”

  I grimaced in sympathy. “That’s why she freaked about the law limiting the number of Unclaimed.”

  Killian shrugged. “She could have been adopted into another Family. With our numbers dwindling, most Families welcome adopted vampires now.”

  “Yeah, but that’s a pretty new thing, isn’t it? I heard some of the Drake Family chatting, and it seems like being adopted usually puts a vampire in a lower position.”

  “If you are trying to talk me into feeling pity for her, it won’t work,” Killian darkly said. “She killed vampires and humans alike.”

  “Yeah,” I agreed. “She clearly had a loose screw. I’m not at all trying to justify her actions, but it doesn’t make you second-guess your new law?”

  “No,” Killian said. “Because every vampire life is precious. And Unclaimed don’t survive long.”

  “Why is that?” I asked. “They can purchase blood—it’s not like you guys are reliant on other vampires for provision.”

  “No,” Killian agreed. “We rely on our Families for power and protection. Unclaimed don’t survive long because they are walking targets. They have no allies among the vampires, which makes them easy prey for the rest of the supernaturals.”

  “I don’t believe that,” I protested. “As a community we have to get along—or we’ll collapse.”

  Killian raised his other eyebrow. “And I suppose your experience has disproven this?”

  I shut my mouth so hard my teeth clicked.

  When the other Houses had refused to help me, I knew I was dead. Everyone knew what would happen, and the werewolves hadn’t tried to stop it, and the fae nobles my parents had been allies with hadn’t sought me out after I pledged servitude to Killian.

  I was able to survive because of the Drake Family, not because of the goodwill of our community.

  It was heartbreaking. Knowing that magic was dying should have united us…but while on the surface everything seemed okay since there weren’t many conflicts and no wars, in reality the magical races had drawn lines of separation.

  Except I’m a wizard living here in Drake Hall. Does that count for anything?

  “Isn’t there a way you could make things safer for the Unclaimed?” I asked, not quite ready to let go yet.

  Killian tilted his head as he thought.

  “I mean, you’re the all-powerful, intelligent Killian Drake,” I said, buttering him up for all I was worth. “Creating an alternative should be easy for you.”

  The flat set of his eyebrows and the line of his mouth said he knew what I was doing and wasn’t falling for it, but he played with my fingers as he thought. “I could require contact or nearby living quarters with other Unclaimed. If they form their own sort of community—even if it’s small—it would provide more protection than living alone as a sitting duck.”

  The light in his eyes was curious now—he was thinking about it.

  Which surprised me. I didn’t honestly think he’d be willing to change something he’d done. Maybe his concern for the preservation of the vampire race as a whole really was what drove him, rather than a general thirst for power.

  “You don’t regret your decision?”

  “Huh?” I snapped my eyes to Killian’s face.

  He finally set my arm down on my mattress—though he still held my hand. “You don’t regret your decision to kill the vampire?”

  I furrowed my brow. “No. Why would I?”

  Killian raised his eyebrows. “Because of your sanctimonious and precious House rules?”

  “Oh. That.” I briefly pursed my lips, then shook my head. “No. I did the right thing. It might go against House rules, but I feel it here.” I thumped my chest with my free hand, breaking off in a wheeze when I realized it was my mangled shoulder. When I recovered my breath I added, “I’d rather fight and spill blood than let my friends die in front of me.”

  “Even if it means you can’t lead your House?” Killian asked.

  I considered his words. “Yeah. It was right,” I
repeated.

  He stared at me with an intense scrutiny in his eyes I couldn’t quite place. Did he think I was stupid? Did he believe I had fallen into whatever plan he had concocted? (If so, he had another think coming to him: just because I’d stop someone from killing him didn’t mean I was going to do his bidding.)

  I figured he’d keep pestering me about it, but he abruptly replaced his stare with a smug smirk. “Then you consider me a friend? My wizard, you are more naïve than I thought.” His voice was such a rich velvety purr it was obvious he was playing it up to cover whatever he was thinking.

  “Let’s just say I don’t want to see you die,” I said.

  “An acceptable beginning.” He leaned closer, his eyes at half-mast. “I can’t say I’ve ever seduced a wizard, but it might be fun to give it a try.”

  I sucked my neck into my shoulders. “No,” I said. “Don’t do that.”

  Killian inched closer. “Do what?”

  “Look here. You need to learn about personal boundaries and comfort zones.”

  “Quite right,” he agreed, his faint British accent thickening into something much stronger. “Why don’t you teach me?”

  I scrunched my nose at him. “Come any closer and I’ll purposely open my shoulder wound and stink you out of the room.”

  Unexpectedly, Killian froze, his head half-cocked. “Touché, little wizard.” He leaned back in his chair just as the door thumped open.

  “I thought I heard your voice!” Celestina had a big smile on her face—and a smoldering potion in each hand. “I’m so glad you’re awake!” She set the potions on my nightstand and sat at the edge of my mattress, leaning in so she could give me a hug. “You were amazing.”

  “She was no such thing.” Killian let his head loll on his neck in exasperation. “She nearly got herself killed with nothing to show for it. Idiotic, that’s what she was.” He reached around Celestina so he could flick me on the forehead. “Once she is healed there is going to be a discussion about the stupidity of flinging herself into danger.”

  I was pretty surprised Killian would have anything to say about that—particularly since he only gained from me attacking Solene. But I ignored his comment—and the flick to the forehead—and leaned into Celestina’s hug. She was nice and cool, and I felt a little warm.

  Celestina, however, didn’t ignore her boss. “She nearly bested a vampire without magic, and she destroyed her seal all by herself,” she said. “I think we should celebrate.”

  “You’re going soft,” Killian grumbled. “Throwing the wizard a treat just because she survived—ridiculous.”

  Celestina pulled back and gave me one of the smoldering fae potions. “Drink these—your shoulder is still in rough shape.”

  “Is Rupert complaining that I’m stinking the house up again?” I took the glass bottle from her and chugged the potion. This one had a thick, chalky texture, but it looked more appealing than the liquid-y bright pink one she passed off to me next. Right before I tipped it to my lips, my brain caught up with my mouth. “Oh—gosh. Did someone get his car back to him? He’s going to hate my guts if the city towed it!”

  “We brought it back,” Celestina assured me. “And he wasn’t at all put out about it.”

  I sniffed the potion—which oddly smelled of coconut. “Yeah, and if that isn’t the biggest lie I’ve heard this year, I don’t know what is.” I threw my head back and tossed the potion down. It fizzed almost painfully in my mouth and throat, but my shoulder ached enough I didn’t care.

  Celestina watched with the care of a nurse. “You should eat. Think you can make it down to the kitchens, or should I call for someone to bring something up?”

  “I can make it.” I rolled my shoulders, making my body creak. “I think it’d be good for me.”

  Celestina backed up so I could slide out of bed. I stared down at my pajamas (Drake issued and silken, of course) then shrugged. Pretty much everyone in Drake Hall had either witnessed me screaming or dripping with sweat. I didn’t think pajamas could hurt my reputation.

  I limped for the door, my joints getting looser with each step I took, but paused in the doorway.

  Killian remained seated while Celestina circled my bed, collecting the empty potion bottles and a few used blood pouches.

  “Thanks for taking care of me,” I said.

  “Of course,” Celestina said. “Go eat. I got some fae bath bombs online. When you finish eating we’ll throw one in the tub for you.”

  I nodded and glanced at Killian, waiting to see if he’d look at me. (He wouldn’t.)

  I shrugged and padded from the room.

  “Remember, Wizard. We will discuss your actions later,” Killian called through the open door.

  I grinned as I started down the hallway, feeling better than I had in ages. Killian probably just wanted to lecture me before forcing more training on me. But after my fight with Solene, I was more than happy to accept more free training.

  Yeah, life still sucked. My parents were dead and Mason had taken over House Medeis…but I was starting to appreciate the Drake Family—even if I didn’t approve of Killian’s ways. And somehow…I felt better.

  Maybe it was that my senses were now blasted open to the magic that soaked the air, but a part of me suspected it was more than that.

  Over the past few months I’d come to realize how off some of House Medeis’s rules were—like the no killing, even in self-defense one. But I’d made up my mind that I wasn’t going to follow that law, and it weirdly made me feel freer.

  I wasn’t sure what I was going to do about Mason or House Medeis, but I was also pretty sure I first needed to get used to my new powers. Given the other Houses’ attitude, I was probably safest testing them out and training here in Drake Hall.

  I stalled briefly in the hallway as I thought of Killian. I was pretty sure he was the one who had picked me up as I passed out—and what was with the hand thing? Did he have some sneaky plans he was going to use me in?

  My stomach growled loudly. I took a deep breath then lurched into a walk.

  Staying was going to be a gamble I’d have to take. But while I didn’t trust Killian, I felt pretty certain that he wouldn’t actively try to ruin my life. He found me amusing—maybe diverting and potentially useful. After what I’d gone through, that was enough for me.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Killian

  I stood and let my arms drop to my sides as Hazel Medeis walked down the hallway, leaving me with a very troubling question.

  I rubbed my head and glanced at my First Knight. “Celestina.”

  She straightened and swung around so she could face me. “Yes, Your Eminence?”

  I paused, carefully choosing my words. I couldn’t reveal too much. Not even to my second-in-command. “How bad does Hazel smell to you?”

  “You mean her wizard blood?” Celestina adjusted her grip on the empty potion bottles. “She’s smelled quite neutral to me for a few weeks.”

  I kept my expression still. “Neutral?”

  “Yes. She doesn’t smell bad, but she doesn’t smell good like humans.”

  “You trust her, then.”

  Celestina tapped the bottles against her thigh. “To an extent. I know she would never mean to hurt any of us, but she is a wizard.”

  “Yes.” I stared at Hazel’s bed, as if it could give me answers. “She’s still a virtuous idiot—which, as she’s proved, can make her dangerous.”

  “What do you mean, sir?”

  “She doesn’t regret killing the vampire,” I said. “She didn’t bat an eye or stop to think about it when I asked.”

  “The vampire was a mad murderer.”

  “Even so, she was trained to avoid physical conflict. With years of conditioning, I would have thought she’d be an emotional wreck. But she’s not…because she believes strongly in what’s right.” I gazed at the door Hazel had disappeared through. “If she believes in what she’s doing, I don’t think there’s a force on earth that could s
top her, or make her double guess her decisions. That is why she is dangerous. That earnest, unflinching belief.”

  I was no fool. I lived in a world of gray. Yes, there was darkness and light, but between the political maneuvering and selfish ambition, most supernaturals were varying shades of gray. Even I wondered from time to time if I’d made the correct decisions about issues.

  Hazel apparently had no such problem. Once she decided what was right, she did it. No matter what others thought.

  “I don’t think that’s something you’ll be able to change about her, Your Eminence,” Celestina carefully said.

  When I glanced at her, she had a bland, unconcerned expression on her face. But I had known her long enough to see the flicker of concern in her stance.

  Celestina had become fond of the wizard. She didn’t want to see me break her.

  Unfortunately, it seemed like that was already beyond me.

  “Naturally,” I dryly said. “I have seen her in action long enough to be certain of that.” I swatted a hand at her. “Go after her. Some members of our Family are rather exuberant about her actions. If they happen upon her in this state, they might accidentally hurt her.”

  Though my voice dripped with sarcasm, Celestina nodded, taking the charge seriously. “She has become a favorite. I will see to it, Your Eminence.” She slipped out of the room with the softness of a leopard stalking its prey, leaving me alone with an untimely and—galling discovery.

  I rubbed my mouth, grimacing in distaste.

  To Celestina—who doted on the stubborn wizard and clearly counted her a friend—she smelled neutral.

  To me, Killian Drake, Elder of the Drake Family, Eminence of the Midwest—paranoid and hardened beyond feeling…Hazel Medeis smelled amazing.

  I couldn’t pin the scent down. She didn’t smell like food—as other humans did. Rather, she smelled like sunlight used to feel before I was turned and found it less pleasant—warm, inviting, and dangerously pure. There was an undertone of wildness to her scent, too—something almost electric. I suspected that was her magic flowing in her veins.