Markus waited a moment longer, his dark brown eyes seeming to stare straight into hers. Geist had hated his stare as a child—always scrutinizing, always judgmental, always disappointed. Nothing had changed about him, it seemed. By now he was in his early forties, though it didn’t show. His dark hair wasn’t graying, nor did his skin wrinkle at the face or neck. Geist could only assume apex sorcery was to blame for this supernatural youthfulness.
“We should have the sentries sweep this area a second time,” Markus drawled, turning away from Geist and continuing his path to the back of the room.
“I think they already scoured the room.”
Markus spared his son a single, half-second glance.
Dietrich wilted. “I’ll go get the sentries.” And he shuffled away hurriedly.
A part of her wanted to follow Dietrich and speak to him, but she knew it was folly. Dietrich would never follow her over their father, not when he was already on such a tight leash. And Geist couldn’t risk explaining to the others why she had to save a Magic Hunter—the same soldier that Vergess had allowed to escape days before.
And yet…
She turned to watch her father. Even though the mission had nothing to do with Markus, Geist almost wanted to confront him. And she wanted to know why they were gathering.
It would only take a moment.
Staying near the wall, she slunk around to the corner and then along the back, under the heavy-curtained windows. Her father had taken a seat at the longest table alongside the other decorated officers and their dazzling wives. As Geist drew close, slinking behind the men at the table, a mere arm’s length away, she saw one stand suddenly. Crouching, she waited.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” the man said, his German formal enough for a textbook. “The highest echelons of the German military command would like to thank you all for your attendance. Unfortunately, the Kaiser could not attend, but the crown prince himself is here in his stead.”
A rousing round of cheers and claps filled the massive room. Geist kept her head down. She knew what the crown prince of Germany looked like. The playboy sorcerer had made a name for himself, after all. It surprised her he was even here.
As the clapping waned, the man continued, “And I would like to thank the heir apparent to the crown of Austria for his attendance as well.”
The round of cheers that followed were louder than the last.
Geist couldn’t resist. She stood, keeping her head up for a few seconds, and caught a glimpse of the commotion.
Leopold walked through the crowd, offering a tight smile to the officers. He held a glass of wine, and raised it to a few young ladies, their giggles lost in the applause. Geist ducked back down as Leopold took a seat at the table, only a few feet from her.
When Prince Leopold spoke, his voice rang out clear and filled with authority. “You’re too kind, General von Moltke. But please, dispense with the pleasantries. We’re all curious to see if your claims are true.”
Sorcerer-General Joseph von Moltke!
Geist stole another glance. Here was man in charge of the Abomination Soldier division for the German Army. Unlike her father, however, who seemed cut from steel and hardened from a lifetime of fighting, General von Moltke was long past his prime. His white hair and paunchy belly didn’t match the physical prowess of the sorcerers he commanded, but Geist had read many reports about his brilliant tactical abilities.
General von Moltke chuckled. “Everything is true.”
Three words silenced the room. Geist narrowed her eyes.
What are they talking about?
“All of our toil and research has led us to unprecedented success,” General von Moltke proclaimed, his gleeful voice booming off the walls. “We finally have it! The solution to a problem that has plagued sorcerers since the very first. Gone are the days when our bloodlines restrict our sorcery. Today is the dawn of a new future, one where we can mix the blood of one sorcerer into another and give them access to a whole new host of magics he never had access to.”
Murmurs rippled through the room in a wave. Even Geist couldn’t suppress a gasp. This went well beyond combining sorcery with technology—this broke a cardinal law of magic itself.
“We no longer have to think about the magic we’ll be passing to our children,” the general continued, his excitement never waning. “Now we can add the sorcery to ourselves—and we’ll be taking it first from our enemy!”
Again, gasps and whispers. The room buzzed for a few moments before the general continued.
“Men who join us will have first pick of Ethereal Squadron sorcerers,” General von Moltke stated with a laugh. “The sorcery of the Americas, French, and British will be ours for the taking. Imagine what you could accomplish with the added magic of House Hamilton, House Chambers, or House de Viennois? Their sorcery mixed with your own will make our combined might unstoppable.”
Applause erupted throughout the room. Geist took the opportunity to take a step forward. She was a whisper away from her father and the sorcerer-general, but she didn’t care.
How?
General von Moltke held up a hand and quieted the room. “I have someone here to explain, but first let me share more news. I am pleased to inform you that for their tireless efforts in service of our great nation, the Kaiser has approved a brand-new magical-technology division of our military high command. Our plan to syphon sorcery from our enemies would never have come to fruition without their research. And today, here before you, I wish to confer the first ever title of Magic-Technology General to Heinrich von Veltheim, our lead researcher on the project.”
The general placed a hand on the man sitting next to him as the room fell into another round of cheers. The new magic-technology general, however, jerked away from General von Moltke’s touch. He glared at the older man and clenched his jaw—Geist was so close she could almost hear his teeth grinding together.
Heinrich von Veltheim, unlike the soldiers in the room, wore thin-framed spectacles and a suit without any military decoration at all. “How dare you” he said, almost inaudible amidst the clamor. “I told you very plainly that I intended to resign.”
“And I told you that wasn’t an option,” General von Moltke replied in a whisper, never breaking his smile. “Your house agreed to keep you on the project until the end of the war, and you’ll keep that promise.”
“My work was never meant for this,” Heinrich protested. “I don’t approve of this… this butchery!”
“It was always meant for this, boy. Now stand up and accept the damn position like a good soldier.”
Heinrich stood, his gaunt frame taller than the general’s. He straightened his spectacles and allowed his face to smooth. He was young, Geist realized. No older than twenty-five.
No older than herself.
The room grew quiet. When Heinrich turned to face the other sorcerers, they gave him their full attention. The entire room seemed to hold its breath.
“I respectfully decline,” Heinrich stated, his voice loud and clear enough to carry.
Murmurs again swept across the room. Even Geist knew it was tantamount to treason to publically shame a high-ranking military officer. He means it, Geist thought.
And they’ll probably kill him for it.
Heinrich shot General von Moltke one last glower before turning on his heel and storming from the table, his dress shoes clicking heavily on the polished wood floors.
Leopold placed a hand on General von Moltke’s shoulder. “I thought you said you had him under control.”
“Forgive me, Your Highness. I can—”
“No.” With a glare, Leopold focused his attention on Geist’s father. “Markus. Notify the sentries. Tell them we need a handler for our new magic-technology general.”
Markus stood and replied with a curt nod. “Consider it done.”
“And don’t let him leave the estate.”
“Of course.”
Markus shimmered and faded—until he suddenly vanish
ed from view.
Damn. He’s far better than me at specter sorcery. He doesn’t even need a Battery of his own to become invisible. Geist took a few steps back, hoping the noise of the room would cover the sound of her steps.
She still didn’t know how the enemy was going to steal magic from the Ethereal Squadron. Geist had never expected to discover such a monstrous scheme. All she could think of was returning to the others. They needed to know. Major Reese needed to know. Everyone had to be prepared.
But first I have to find out more.
With the speech concluded, the music started back up, and men and women paired off and danced to the pleasant melodies, celebrating their future victory. Those not participating lifted glasses and offered toasts.
Leopold stood behind the table, observing the party, General von Moltke at his side.
When Geist turned to leave, she bumped a flagpole affixed by the wall. The flutter of the German flag drew both the general’s and Leopold’s attention, and Geist moved behind the fabric, thankful it fell all the way to the floor.
“Who’s there?” General von Moltke asked, his voice harsh. He reached for his sidearm and Leopold narrowed his eyes, his gaze fixed on her location.
“Reveal yourself,” Leopold commanded. “We know you’re there.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
DEFECTOR
GEIST HELD HER POSITION, HER breath caught in her lungs, her heart pounding in her ears.
Fragments of flame swirled around Leopold, the chill of magic crawling up Geist’s spine.
There was a reason the sorcerers of Royal Houses had kept their political power for so many years. They were the only practitioners of ultima ratio reguma sorcery in the entire known world.
The magic knows as The Final Argument of Kings.
It gave them an advantage no other sorcerer had. When they improved one school of sorcery, they improved every school of sorcery they had access to in their bloodline. Where Geist had to learn apex sorcery separate from her specter sorcery, Leopold only had to learn one—any one—and he would suddenly be a master of hundreds. And over the generations, through careful breeding, the royal family had accumulated a vast array of magics. No normal sorcerer stood a chance against anyone within the royal bloodline.
Leopold could burn the whole building down with ignis sorcery, and Geist didn’t doubt he had apex sorcery at his disposal as well, perhaps even ruina—and a hundred more. Maybe even some she had never heard of.
What if he can see through my invisibly? What should I do?
Gripped with a single, terrible plan, Geist allowed her invisibility to drop and stepped out from behind the flag.
Both men lifted eyebrows at her appearance.
“Who’re you?” General von Moltke growled. “What’re you doing here?”
“I—” Geist kept her gaze down and clasped her hands together in front of her, “—just wanted to get closer to the prince. To, er, see him in person.”
She didn’t sound convincing, but Geist wasn’t banking on her subterfuge, just on the two things she knew about Prince Leopold.
His arrogance—and his lust.
The flecks of flame ceased and Leopold offered her a slight smile. “Ah. I see. Stand down, General. I’ll handle it from here.”
Leopold stepped forward and held out his hand, palm up. Geist took his hand, wishing with all her heart to end the interaction as quickly as possible. She had Dreamer’s illusions, and her hair had been long when she met Leopold years ago, but…
There’s always a possibility he’ll recognize my voice or sense my magic. If he attempts to keep me by his side, I don’t think I’ll be able to get away. I just have to hope he lets me go without suspicion.
“You’re not the first woman to hide in my presence,” Leopold said as he led her to the dance floor. “And I like to reward those who admire me.”
“Th-thank you,” Geist said, focusing her gaze on anything but him. He’ll grow bored and discard me. Then I can get back to the others. Eventually.
He slid his hand down her side and around to the small of her back, his other hand holding her up as they joined the dance. Geist held herself as far away as possible, her feet falling into place with the slow tempo of the music. She’d studied dance for ten years and the rhythm came naturally, but she could not bear to press her body against the prince.
While everyone on the sidelines stared, the other couples dancing gave them ample room. No one wanted to be the fool who bumped the crown prince. Geist gritted her teeth, hating the taste of fear that ran through the crowd.
“You dress is rather… dowdy,” Leopold said as they circled around. “Not very flattering for a woman of your age.”
Geist forced herself to nod. “Forgive me.” I think you said something similar the first time we met.
With each step, Geist tried to lean away, but Leopold pulled her close after a spin and trapped her against his chest. He was muscular—like Vergess—and carried the clean scent of the outdoors. His skillful dancing came, no doubt, from years of study; he never missed a beat.
“For someone so desperate to meet me, you’re not doing much to endear yourself to me,” Leopold said, his voice low. “I don’t share my time idly. You shouldn’t waste this opportunity.” He leaned down close, his mouth by Geist’s ear. “Impress me.”
“Aren’t you engaged?” Geist whispered.
“Is that what you’re worried about? Think nothing of it. I’ve yet to take a wife, but you could always be my mistress.”
Lucky me. Geist stifled a sarcastic laugh, but Geist couldn’t help but asking, “But weren’t you engaged? Before, I mean.”
Leopold seemed to consider this, his hot breath washing down her ear. “Now that you mention it,” he began, “I suppose I was. I had almost forgotten. But that’s long over and she was of no consequence anyway. I just needed her for her blood. You understand.”
The knowledge didn’t surprise Geist.
He’s not going to recognize me. I could be standing in front of him, no illusions whatsoever, and he probably wouldn’t even remember who I am.
The music stopped, and Leopold ended their dance. He took a step back and shook his head. “You really weren’t much of anything, were you? There are a hundred girls ready to take your place, most with better looks and younger to boot. You should’ve tried a little harder. You’ll be forgotten by dinner at this rate.”
Geist gave the prince a curtsy and then muttered, “You’ll remember me. Just not for the reasons you’re thinking.”
The prince narrowed his eyes but otherwise said nothing.
She knew she should have kept her mouth shut. But she was going save Paris from their New Schieffen Plan, and it would be his arrogance that allowed it to happen. A part of her wanted him to know he’d let her slip by—that he could have stopped her, if he’d only kept his head.
If only I could tell him who I really am.
But then again, he still might not remember me.
Geist made her way out of the room and hustled back through the west wing entrance and into the main OHL compound to rejoin Battery and Vergess. But when she rounded the corner into the main hallway, she froze. Vergess and Battery were nowhere to be seen. She glanced back and forth, confusion blossoming into panic. Where were they? Geist hid behind a pillar and became invisible before rushing along the hall and peered into every room, dodging the busy servants who hurried this way and that.
Relief flooded her being the moment she caught sight of them in a nearby pantry doorway. Thank God. She dashed over as they entered and took position in far corners, their backs leaning against the empty shelves.
“Some scholars say excelling in ruina sorcery is a mark of poor self-esteem,” Battery was saying.
“I’ve got enough self-esteem for the both of us,” Vergess replied.
Battery crossed his arms over his chest. “What’s that supposed to mean? I’m plenty confident, thank you very much.”
“That’s wh
y you keep saying it, right? Because it’s so true?”
Geist allowed her invisibility to drop, ending their conversation when they spotted her. Both men straightened their posture at her sudden arrival.
“I’m glad you’re okay,” Battery said, uncrossing his arms. “Did you find anything?”
“No,” she murmured. “But I did see the sorcerer-general and the newly appointed magic-technology general. We need to—”
The screech of a door cut Geist’s speech short. She wheeled and spotted an Abomination Soldier standing in the doorway, his hand on the butt of his holstered Luger. His angled German face scrunched in bewilderment.
“What’s going on here?” he asked.
Vergess stepped forward, no hesitation. “Oh, well, we’re sorry but we needed a moment to catch our breath and—”
“This is for servants only.”
“Yes. Forgive us. Come, sisters. We should be returning to the festivities.”
Vergess went to step around the man, but the soldier blocked the exit. The two men regarded each other for a long moment.
“What’re your names?” he asked.
“I am Count Ernst Mittrowsky. These are my sisters, Margarethe and Berta Mittrowsky.”
“Siblings snooping around a pantry? Do you take me for a fool?”
Geist and Battery glanced to one another, each offering a short nod.
Vergess took a deep breath. “Well, you’ve caught me in an awkward position. You see, these aren’t my sisters… Perhaps we can leave it at that?”
What a lie, Geist thought, almost smiling as Battery’s face went beet-red. At least he’s playing the part. Geist feigned embarrassment by fretting with her dress and huffing a few breaths, but a piece of her wanted to laugh as well.
The Abomination Soldier smirked. He relaxed against the doorframe and hooked his thumbs through his belt loops. “Oh, I see. Well, maybe I’ll keep quiet about this… if there are marks involved.”
Shit. Dreamer had given them illusory clothing, but no money in the pockets. Geist had never imagined they’d need it. If the Abomination Soldier gave them too much trouble, it wasn’t like they could go to the authorities. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Vergess’s fists tighten. So it would be a fight, then.
The Ethereal Squadron: A Wartime Fantasy (The Sorcerers of Verdun) Page 30
