With those words, something inside me snapped. I leaned in, pressing my mouth to his. All of a sudden, I couldn’t touch him enough. Our kiss turned fierce. I brushed my fingertips against the scruff of his chin, then ran my palms over the firm planes of his chest and even slid my hand down his thigh, feeling the steel of his muscles under the soft leather.
Rowan’s mouth devoured mine. Still, his hands stayed firmly in place, set against the tree trunk while mine explored. Every so often, he’d let out a low growl of pleasure to show what he liked. It was a rush of power to know how I could affect him.
Finally, Rowan broke our kiss and stepped away. I kept leaning against the tree trunk, panting for breath. “What’s wrong?”
“Transport spell.” Rowan nodded to a small red cloud that had appeared on the forest floor. Red meant it was a Creation Caster. Someone was looking for him.
My shoulders slumped. A man like Rowan can’t forget his responsibilities and run off. He may want to, but his people would never let him.
Rowan hitched his thumbs into the waistband of his leathers. “I can see what you’re thinking.” He gestured to the solidifying mist. “My responsibilities won’t always interfere between us. I give you my word.”
“And I believe you.” The words tumbled from my mouth, unbidden. What really shocked me was how fiercely I meant them. Beyond all reason, I trusted Rowan over anyone else in my life. Not that I should. My judgment wasn’t the finest. The last man I trusted, Tristan, had lied to me and tricked me into taking on a curse.
Linden materialized in the clearing beside us. He appeared just as I remembered him—a lanky man with light brown hair and a missing arm. He’d changed since Rowan and I had freed him from the Midnight Cloister. After his release, Linden had looked positively skeletal. He’d been the victim of one of the Tsar’s experiments. It made my heart glad to see him looking so fit. He smiled. “Elea! It’s good to see you.”
“And you, Linden.”
He turned to Rowan. “You’re needed back at camp. Your uncle has new ideas for tonight.”
My eyes widened. “Tonight? As in, the Montagne celebrations for Theodora?” There were two events for the celebration. The play took place tonight while the ball would be held tomorrow.
Linden frowned. There was no real anger in it though. “I can’t speak about that.”
“You and your secrets.” The Casters were forever hiding where they were going and what they were doing. When it came to Genesis Rex, their secrets turned extreme. Rex had a series of body doubles. All the guards wore leather helms over their faces to hide which man was their king. Rex was constantly under death threats, but still. “There’s no point in playing coy. Both of you are too easy to read. I’m going to attend tonight as well. I’ll see you there.”
Rowan’s brows drew together. “It’s impossible for you to attend.”
I shrugged. “I can be very persuasive.”
Linden shook his head. “I’ve seen the aftermath of your magickal handiwork. I don’t even want to know how you plan to get an invitation. I’ve no doubt that you will succeed.”
“Does that mean you’ll both be there?” I tried to ignore the way the thought of Rowan made my heart thud faster.
Rowan gave me another one of his crooked grins. “Yes, I’ll be present.” He stepped up and pressed his palm against my cheek. I leaned into his touch. “Remember what I said.” His voice was so low, only I could hear him. “We’ll be together.” He moved in close enough to whisper in my ear. “Look for me at the ball tonight. I’ll be guarding Rex.”
“I will.”
He brushed a gentle kiss on my forehead and walked back to Linden. Soon, a red haze formed around both of them, and they vanished.
For a long minute, I stared at the spot where Rowan had last stood. Bit by bit, my Necromancer training came back to me. Finally, I scrubbed my hands over my face and got back to work. I needed to ward this property, prepare for the ball at the Montagne estate, and forget about Rowan for a while. Too many lives were depending on me to do anything else.
Chapter Thirteen
There was no doubt about it. Casting these gods-damned protection spells was taking far too long. Still, I couldn’t stop now without risking everything I had cast before.
As much as I wanted to leave, there was no other option. I simply had to finish my spellwork.
I followed a trail deeper into the forest. Stout trees towered around me, their heavy branches blotting out any sign of the late afternoon sun. Hours had passed since I’d last spied another soul. No question why, either. This part of the forest was a muddy mess. With every step, my boots took on fresh streams of chilly sludge. Swarms of angry gnats buzzed around my head. The stale smell of rotting leaves filled the air. And my wards weren’t done yet.
How I wish this was over.
I trudged onto some high ground under an oak tree. At least, the earth here only oozed up to my ankles. There were no gnats either. Some tension left my shoulders. This spot was a definite improvement. I paused, ready to cast again.
Closing my eyes, I reached out with my mage senses, searching for the cords of energy that I’d placed across this property. Every strand of power represented a different spell to protect the Havillands.
The spells were all there, strong and solid. My heart lightened. My work was almost done.
Raising my left hand, I spoke an incantation for giving my magick a visual form. Suddenly, my spells materialized as a glowing spider’s web of blue power that stretched off in every direction—a sight only I could see. Dainty lines of energy linked every rotting leaf, ridged tree trunk, and blade of grass. The ties appeared bright, solid, and strong. I lowered my hand and sighed.
My casting’s complete.
Satisfaction warmed my chest. The entire Havilland estate was now fully protected from virtually any mage. I glanced down at my mud-stained frock. The land might be fixed, but when it came to my appearance? What a mess. Normally, this wouldn’t bother me. I grew up on a farm, after all. The Montagne passion play started in a matter of hours. My pulse sped as I thought about what Kamilla had said in the Havilland’s gallery. Ada and the others might be hidden at Montage estate.
I could rescue them all tonight. The thought made my head swim.
I patted my pocket. Today, I’d headed out with my witness watch. I pulled out the device and glanced at the face. I still had until midnight tomorrow night. After that, the totem ring would be fully charged and my friends were good as dead. Determination made my hands ball into fists.
Time to find out if Ada, Veronique, and the others were at the Montagne estate. My heart warmed at the thought. Perhaps I might even find some other trained Necromancers as well.
I was tired of being the last of my kind.
No matter what happened, I needed to get ready for tonight. Unfortunately, I’d wasted too much time casting spells today. I’d have to transport to Amelia’s mansion. I bit back a groan. Transport spells were the worst. They hurt like blazes and drained me of magick for hours.
I sighed. There was no avoiding it. I’d never get a carriage in time.
Raising my left arm, I gathered fresh Necromancer power to me. An azure mist swirled around my feet as the bones in my left palm glowed blue. I spoke the incantation for a transport spell to Amelia’s chamber.
Strong as stone and fast as wind
Magick moving without end
Take me to my heart’s desire
Travel racing fast as fire
Darkness enveloped me. My muscles tensed, preparing for the pain that would surely follow. Transportation magick always hurt. It only got worse when my energy was low from casting, like it was today. The transport hit me like a boulder. Every bone felt crushed under enormous weight. Agony streamed through my limbs. All air left my body. I couldn’t even scream.
The pain vanished. The spell was complete, but I couldn’t focus on my new surroundings. Air was my first priority. I leaned forward, bracing my arms on my kne
es as I gasped in breath after breath. Seconds passed before I noticed the familiar lines of Amelia’s chamber, from her elegantly carved furniture to her many tapestries of unicorns. Then, I noticed something that wasn’t familiar at all.
Philippe stood half naked over Amelia’s washbasin.
My mouth fell open. It wasn’t that Philippe was unattractive. I just saw him as more of a brother. Maybe.
I quickly covered my eyes. “What are you doing here?”
“My chamber is occupied and I needed to wash off.”
“Occupied?” I peeped through my fingers. “You have more guests?”
Philippe tossed his washcloth into the basin, picked up a white towel, and wrapped it loosely around his shoulders. Why didn’t the man put on a shirt? “Who said it was a guest? One of the new chambermaids is a dirty little vixen. She wanted me to—”
I raised my hand. “I’d rather not know the specifics.”
“In any case, she’s now asleep in my bed, and I needed to clean up.” He looked me over from head to toe. “But I’d say you’re in far worse shape than I am.”
I couldn’t stop my smile. “That’s true. Could you send in a servant to help me, assuming that there are some you haven’t ravished into oblivion?”
A mischievous light danced in his eyes. “There are, in fact, one or two who are still conscious.”
As a good Necromancer, I should act appalled. Philippe seemed to make everything a grand adventure. I didn’t bother to keep the slyness out of my voice. “Glad to hear it.”
Philippe rubbed his neck in a slow rhythm. “That was very impressive, by the by.”
“What was?”
“Your transport spell. I’d never seen one before. Amelia has some magick, but not enough to—” He grinned. “You know.”
My heart warmed under his compliment. Only Grand Mistress Necromancers could manage transport spells, and even then, it was a rare skill. “Thank you.”
The door flew open, and Amelia stepped into the room. She was wearing a silk dressing gown with her hair tied into loops using long strips of white cloth. “Elea! When did you arrive?”
“Not long ago. I cast a transport spell from the Havilland estate after I’d finished their warding.”
Amelia turned to her brother and gasped. “Philippe! Have you no shame?”
He shrugged. “Not in particular.”
Amelia gripped his forearm and dragged him toward the door. “You have to leave.” She paused. “No, you have to stay and put some clothes on first. What if the servants saw you this way?”
At that comment, Philippe shot me a sly look. I could guess his meaning. Most of the servants here were young, female, and had already seen him naked. I fought down a laugh.
Amelia scooped up a white shirt from the floor and handed it to her brother. “Now, put this on and leave. Summon Clothilde. We must get Elea ready.”
Philippe slipped on the garment and turned to Amelia with a mock flourish. “Better?”
“Presentable.” Her voice lowered to a hush. “And what were you doing in here with Elea, anyway?”
Philippe just kept on smiling. “Why are we whispering?”
“Because I don’t want the servants—” Amelia rushed over to the door and pulled it open. “Just get out of here.”
“I can’t,” said Philippe.
Amelia set her fist on her hip. “Now, you’re just being contrary.”
“No, he isn’t.” I pointed past Philippe’s shoulder. A servant stood in the hallway beyond. I’d seen that kind of multicolored livery before. It was what servants of the Vicomte wore. My hands curled into fists. The last thing we needed was interference from that man.
Amelia swung around and took in the new figure. All the blood drained from her pretty face. “What are you doing here, Giles?”
“What I always do when I reach your door.” Giles bowed, but the disdain in his eyes said that he thought Amelia unworthy of such a gesture. “The Vicomte would like to see you in the reception room. Now.”
Amelia’s eyes widened. “Daddy Dearest is here?”
Giles sniffed, a motion that showed off the thin nostrils of his overlong nose. “Obviously.”
“Yes, I’ll be right down.” Amelia closed the door and began pacing the floor. My heart went out to her. “I haven’t seen the Vicomte in years. What could he want?” She kept her voice so quiet I could hardly hear her. “Do you think he knows what we’re looking for?”
“I don’t think so, Amelia,” I whispered. “If he knew, then the Vicomte would have sent guards, not come himself. Most likely, he’s here for another purpose.”
Amelia and I shared a glance. I thought back to our conversation with the Marchioness.
The Vicomte wants to sell Amelia off in marriage.
Philippe’s charming face turned stony. “Whatever your Daddy Dearest has planned, it won’t be good. And I won’t let him get away with it.”
“Don’t be rash, Philippe. You know how he hates you already.” Amelia turned to me. “Can you do anything to help?” Her gaze landed pointedly on my left hand. “Make him forget why he came here?”
I shook my head. “He’s sure to have Fantomes nearby.” I stepped closer and spoke in a whisper. “And if I’m to reveal myself, it must be for a higher purpose. Don’t forget what we’re working toward.” It was on the tip of my tongue to describe my vision of Ada and Veronique. Amelia needed to understand how horrible things really were for our friends. I’d held off before because she had such a sensitive nature. But now?
Amelia stared at the tapestry for a long minute before speaking again. “You’re right. I can’t forget Veronique.”
“Veronique.” Philippe folded his arms over his chest. “What a waste to try to help that one.”
Amelia raised her chin. “We’re not having this discussion again, Philippe.”
I stepped closer to Philippe and spoke in a gentle voice. “It’s more than Veronique, you know.”
Philippe rubbed his neck in a nervous rhythm. “I know.” His carefree face became lined with worry. “I don’t like the idea of you risking yourself, Amelia.”
“Thank you. I’ll be fine. Elea will be with me.”
I took a half step backward. “I’m not at all sure I should accompany you.”
Amelia grasped my arm. “He won’t recognize you, I swear.” Her fingers trembled against my skin. “And you’re so powerful. I’d feel better with you at my side.”
“He’ll recognize me. I sent the Tsar into exile.”
She rolled her eyes. “You saw him for a day. I’ve known the man all my life. If we dress you as a Royal, he won’t look at you twice.”
I shot Philippe a questioning look. Amelia had said this before, but I still wasn’t sure. “Is this true?”
“Certainly,” said Philippe. “Women rank about the same level as furniture in the Vicomte’s world. Royal women even less so. If you’re perfumed and dressed up like a little doll, he’ll never recognize you.”
“See?” Amelia gripped my arm even tighter. “You have to join me.”
I didn’t like this. However, if my presence calmed Amelia, it was probably for the best. A worried Amelia could say or do anything. “I will.”
She sighed. “Thank you.”
“I’ll be there as well, of course.” Philippe forced a grin. The motion had none of his normal enthusiasm. “Until we meet in the reception room.” He trudged out the door.
Once we were alone once more, Amelia rounded on me. “I’m more concerned about rumors. You don’t think the Vicomte heard about everything that’s happened?”
I knew what she meant, and it wasn’t a short list of happenings, either. A dead Fantome. Gallery burned to the ground. Spells cast all over the Montagne estate. I straightened my shoulders and fixed Amelia with a determined gaze. “Honestly? I do think he’s here about your marriage.” Perhaps.
“Marriage I can handle.” Amelia gave me a sad smile. “The idea is foul, but there have been whisp
ers for years. Yet if he suspects something larger, then he’ll send a Fantome to live with me, like he did with the Marchioness.” She shivered. “Are they really as terrible as they say?”
Worse.
“I can take care of them. That’s all that matters.” I took her hands in mine. “Whatever takes place, we’ll find a way. Believe it.”
“Yes, Elea. We can do this.” As Amelia bustled off in search of Clothilde and my evening gown, her words echoed through my mind.
We can do this.
It was two of us against the Vicomte and all his Fantomes. We could certainly do this. However, I feared we had a better chance to find a single grain of sand on a beach than to locate our Necromancer friends in time.
Chapter Fourteen
Amelia, Philippe, and I stepped into her small reception room. The place looked hastily set up. Although all the tarps had been pulled off all the chairs, the floor was covered in dust, cobwebs hung from the ceiling, and the plaster walls were bare. Not that the Vicomte seemed to notice. His lanky form paced along the back wall, an angular figure in a garish pink coat with tall black boots. Multiple watches hung from his pockets. The bright colors of his clothes made for an odd contrast to the man himself. The Vicomte’s hair, eyes, and skin were all a dull shade of gray.
He hadn’t changed a bit.
I worked hard to keep my face level. The last time I’d seen the Vicomte, we were at the Midnight Cloister. That was when I’d sent his old master, the Tsar, into exile. At the time, I was bloodied and wearing fitted Caster leathers. Amelia said the Vicomte wouldn’t notice me in the Royal garb. And in truth, it was amazing how quickly she and her servants had transformed my appearance. I now wore an elaborate blue gown with my hair piled high atop my head.
Please let this disguise be enough.
The Vicomte stopped his manic pacing. His gaze locked on Amelia. So far, so good. “Where have you been, daughter?”
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