“I acknowledge the Synod’s lack, but this is not some rescued late initiate we are speaking of. She is my daughter. My only living child.”
“All the more reason to welcome her into the fold. She’s one half Seer, the other half Wright. She belongs here.” Bellini slapped his hand on the table, as if that settled things.
“If she cannot manage the power, she will be of no use to us,” one of the stodgy grey-haired Councilors broke in.
“Precisely.” Aldric’s brow wrinkled with worry. “She has struggled with this since she was a little girl. I fear her visions will be overwhelming. Maybe, if she had been initiated sooner, been trained in how to control them, but now…”
“While your concern for your daughter’s welfare is noted, it is ultimately her decision. I’d like to hear what she has to say.” Astrid’s great Aunt Seraphina — an Edgewood by marriage — nodded toward Bri.
Suddenly, all eyes were focused on her. She laid her foot gently over the top of Kean’s to stop his leg from bouncing.
“Sorry,” he muttered under his breath, then straightened in his chair.
She cleared her throat and gave them a nervous smile. She’d spent plenty of time surrounded by business tycoons and politicians. Oftentimes discussions on policy and major moves were taking place at the dinner table right under her nose. But she’d never had any stake in those outcomes. It was an effort to keep her voice from shaking. “Someone recently pointed out to me that I am the last of my bloodline, the end of my family’s Legacy. That never mattered to me before. I have spent my whole life running from this very scenario, but I…I’m starting to believe it was inevitable. My grandmother called me here, and if you knew her, you would know she never did anything without a reason. Usually you couldn’t see it — she was an Oracle, after all.”
Several of them nodded their heads in agreement. Apparently the distaste for Seer secrets was universal.
“I won’t lie. I’m afraid of my power. I don’t want to be consumed by it. I saw what happened to my mother. But it seems like the more I fight it, the worse it is. I want the chance to study, and practice, and learn to control it.”
“A very logical rationale,” one Councilor said.
“She is the last of her bloodline,” another agreed. “Without her, we will lose her piece of the Legacy forever.”
“Very well-put, my dear. Do we need to deliberate further, or should we take a vote?” Bellini asked.
They voted. Four in favor, three — including Aldric — against.
“Then it is decided, her binding will be removed.” Councilor Bellini wasn’t smiling, but his dark eyes sparkled with something akin to excitement. “Should you choose to accept the terms.”
Bri blinked at him, stunned into silence. “What terms?”
“My dear girl, this is unprecedented, and though your family name can pull some strings for you, no exceptions are made without due course. In this case, it is also a matter of safety — namely yours. This won’t be an easy path. The first term, you must be tied to a coven. Given the state of things on North Wake, I don’t believe they will welcome you with open arms, so this presents a problem.”
“We want permission to form our own coven,” Astrid blurted. “The three of us. Bri is our third.”
While some of the Councilors did not look thrilled by the idea, Councilor Bellini posted his chin on his hand and gave it a thoughtful consideration. “I think under the circumstances, that is an even better idea. Complete her initiation by the full moon, and I will grant you a trial license for one month.” He gestured to the scribe in the corner. “See that the license is made up for Miss Edgewood before they leave.”
Astrid looked smug. Kean looked as if he’d eaten something bad.
“What are the other conditions?”
“You said you are ready to study and practice. I hope you understand mastering your power will be grueling.”
Kean stiffened in his seat.
“I understand. I’m a quick study.”
He laughed. “Be that as it may, I think it wise to make sure at least some of your training is supervised. Though it is not mandatory, most initiates spend some time in the service of the Synod. Here you will receive the best tutoring and the most practice using your gifts.”
Her skin prickled. She hadn’t been here more than a few hours, and she could already tell she hated the place. Those hungry eyes watching her, the security, the protocol… but how could she say no? It seemed like a small price to pay for a do-over that she couldn’t afford to miss. Astrid had lost her swagger, and Kean’s face was ashen. He looked as if he were going to say something to her, then just held his breath. She wished she could read minds.
“What are the requirements of service? Would I have to live here?”
“No, not at all. I think weekly lessons, attendance at the high festivals, and of course, any special assignments we might need you for. We only have one true Seer in residence here, and she is often pulled away. You would be studying under Councilor Mayberry.”
“That sounds…fair.” Then she remembered the guard’s warning: The Synod doesn’t deal in fairness. Where was the catch?
“How does three years sound?”
She blinked repeatedly to keep her eyes from bulging. “Three years?”
“It is a standard service term. Less than mundanes spend at university, yes?”
“I…” She didn’t have a choice. All eyes were on her, except for her father, who refused to look at her. “Yes.”
Bellini gave her an indulgent smile and waved his hand in the air. “You must say it aloud, so it may be recorded.”
She rubbed the key in her pocket, as if it were a personal touchstone. “I agree to three years of service in exchange for having my binding removed.”
Kean deflated, and Astrid squeezed her shoulder in reassurance.
“Excellent.” His charming smile flashed again and he clapped his hands once. “That’s settled. Now, to remove your binding.”
Aldric rose woodenly from his chair, his face long and movements slow. He walked past them and waited in front of the giant fireplace. Councilor Bellini nodded for her to follow.
She looked to Astrid for reassurance — Kean wouldn’t lift his gaze from his lap and appeared to be counting in his head. Astrid gave her a thin, but grateful smile. The sound of her chair scraping against stone echoed off the high walls of the chamber. She clasped her hands behind her back to hide that they were shaking as she joined Aldric in front of the fireplace, where she noticed a circle about three feet wide had been carved into the floor. He gestured for her to stand in the middle, and she did.
With his face set in a grim line, Aldric lifted a bowl of salt from the nearby altar and walked around her whispering an incantation under his breath. He followed the same path with a candle, and then an incense burner. She felt silly, standing in the middle of the floor shivering, while her father danced around her in his flowing black robes.
Finally, he returned with a large brass chalice full of wine and handed it to her so he could remove a small sickle-shaped blade from inside his robe. In an efficient movement, he cut a diagonal line across his left palm, held it over the wine, and squeezed until 3 drops fell into the cup.
Bri swallowed, her throat dry. Her skin was still vibrating with that effervescent feeling, but underneath it, she felt a bone-deep chill.
No turning back now…
Aldric took the cup from her hands, his fingers barely brushing hers, then sipped. He tilted it to her lips, and she did the same. It was cold, and coated her mouth with a sour bitterness. He poured the rest of the wine into the groove in the floor. It rushed to fill the circle faster than liquid should move. When the two trails met, the ground fell out from underneath her, like an elevator going too fast, and the room went completely silent, as if she was encased in a sensory deprivation chamber. She could see her father’s lips moving as he lifted his arms, but could not make out the words.
He pressed
his hands against her invisible bubble. Wine colored tendrils of smoke snaked through the air from the edge of the circle. Her instinct was to step back, but she only bumped into the edge as if it were solid. She was trapped. She forced herself to breathe steadily as the tendrils coiled around her ankles and up her legs.
When they reached her stomach, she finally felt it — magic. Pressing against her insides, slipping under her skin and filling all the spaces between every cell. She felt as if she was swelling, about to blow up from the inside. The smoke reached her chest, and she held her breath and scrunched her eyes closed, filling up and up, until she couldn’t breathe. She opened her eyes and couldn’t see. The smoke stung her eyes. Panic set in. She slammed her hands against the invisible wall trapping her, sucked in one harsh breath to scream with, and then the bubble burst, and she collapsed.
Sound assaulted her ears as the cold air raked over her. Bri slumped on the stone floor, her breath sawing in and out. It took a few seconds for her vision to clear, even though the smoke was gone. There was a trail of ash in a circle around her, and her father was slumped against the far wall, his eyes wide. She looked around the room and saw equally shocked expressions.
She coughed as she climbed to her feet. “Is it done?”
“No,” her father said. He made no effort to collect himself from the floor.
“What?” She turned to Astrid, who shook her head.
“The ritual backfired,” one of the Councilors said from the other end of the room.
“What does that mean?” she said, her voice going higher. She pulled her sweater tighter around her body and stepped into Kean’s waiting arms. His shields wrapped around her, and she felt instantly safer, almost calm.
Councilor Bellini hefted his considerable weight out of his chair and bobbed towards them. “It means the magic didn’t take.”
No.
“Why not?”
Because you’re broken…
“Because there was no binding to remove.”
Chapter Fifteen
Starlight spilled through the high windows of the Arcanum’s main hall as they poured out of the Council meeting chamber. Bri leaned heavily against Kean. A bone-deep tiredness was settling on her, combined with the shock of the chamber’s revelations and the feeling that she would never be warm again. She just wanted to go home.
How could her power not be bound? Since when? Had Ce-Ce undone the spell somehow? But then, what about her regressions? She’d been having them long before Ce-Ce had appeared, managing them mostly with drugs. What if her powers were never bound? Could her grandmother have been lying to her all these years? And she could hardly wrap her mind around what that meant.
It meant she was strong. Not just her powers, which were considerable, but in order to shield them, she was stronger than she’d ever known. Several Council members had tasted her power, and her shields, and confirmed it. She didn’t feel any different, and she still had no idea how to use her power, but they had a trial coven license, so the trip wasn’t a total loss. They still had a killer to root out, and now they had everything they needed to do it, including protection from Gawain’s hindrance.
Just as they crossed to the outer doors, she reached in her pocket and her hand closed around the key. The vault — she’d almost forgotten.
“Briana,” her father called out from behind them.
Bri sighed as she turned to face him, steeled against any possible entreaty. Aldric was a master manipulator, and now that force wouldn’t get him what he wanted, he’d surely change his approach.
“I wish you would reconsider. Perhaps it is unjust to ask you to give up your powers. They are your heritage. But running off into the fray with threats on your life…surely, you’re only trying to punish me.”
She blinked once, twice. Her mouth worked at first without sound. “Punish you? This has nothing to do with you. I just want to be with the people I love.”
He grabbed her arm just above the elbow, hard, desperate. “Stay here. It’s safer. Let me protect you. Please, I’m begging you.”
She held back her sneer and didn’t struggle, though his grip hurt. She met his eyes with all the bubbling disdain she’d managed to hold back earlier. “Like you protected her?”
Aldric shook her, his features tight and severe. “You can hate me, Briana, but don’t throw your life away out of spite.”
“Is there a problem, Councilor?” The overly-nosy guard’s hand settled on her father’s shoulder like a large fleshy spider, ready to jump to his throat if the occasion called for it. Bri cast the guard a thankful look.
Aldric let go of her abruptly and straightened, as if just remembering they were in public, among his peers. His hands shook as he folded them into the sleeves of his robe. “No, Moncrieffe, everything is fine.”
Bri tilted her head to meet the tall guard’s stern expression. “Actually, I was going to ask if someone could take me to my family’s vault.”
The lines in Aldric’s face deepened and his lips turned white, but he remained silent. Bri lifted her eyebrows at the guard — Moncrieffe — thinking, please get me away from him.
As if he’d heard her, Moncrieffe nodded. “Certainly. Come with me.” He bowed his head in respect to her father and gave them some space.
Aldric’s dreary gaze dropped away from her. A current of despair and rage she knew all too well swirled between them. They seemed cursed to bring out the worst in each other. His voice was flat as he said, “I hope you find what you are looking for. I hope it is worth it, daughter mine.”
Bri swallowed thickly, then turned with Astrid and Kean behind their guide.
The three of them said nothing as he led them down an endless set of stairs spiraling into the dark abyss. They finally emerged into another cold, dank hallway, this one of white marble. Bri could feel the weight of the earth, of time, all around them. They had to be deep underground. The large tapestries on the walls depicted scenes of ancient battles, and divine beings surrounded in foreign runes and symbols. Some of the archetypes she recognized out of mythology: the hunter, the virgin, death. Each had a tiny alter set in the alcove below it. Incense thickened the air. Designs of cosmic maps and astrological symbols were carved into the marble at their feet, filled-in and colored with polished semi-precious stones, outlined with shining veins of silver and gold.
Moncrieffe stopped at a set of fifteen-foot high hammered copper doors, removed a torch from its perch in the wall, and waited. They halted before him.
“You have a key?” he asked Bri softly.
She nodded and caressed it in her pocket, then cast Kean a glare over her shoulder as he crowded against her back. Kean ignored her, his stare fixed on their guide’s stone-set face.
“I can only take her through,” Moncrieffe said.
“She doesn’t go anywhere without me,” Kean countered.
“I don’t make the rules.”
“No, you’re just the Synod’s lapdog.” Kean’s fists pumped at his sides.
The larger man dodged the challenge with grace. “I vow she will come to no harm with me.”
Astrid and Bri both spoke over Kean before he could answer. It was only a matter of seconds before he dug his heels in, and then they could be standing there all night. Or get kicked out.
“Kean,” Bri said as Astrid took his arm from behind. He eased back and clamped his mouth shut, looking very put out. “It’s all right. I’ll be fine.”
She didn’t need protection from Moncrieffe. She didn’t know why, but she trusted the imposing guard. He wouldn’t harm her. She just knew.
Moncrieffe yanked one of the doors open with a creak and an inaudible pop, as if the air pressure had dropped. He guided her across the threshold by her elbow, into the formless dark beyond. She could feel the heat emanating from Moncrieffe’s body even more on the other side. The air in the cavernous black room was at least ten degrees colder. A stampede of icy fingers ran up her spine, and she couldn’t be sure if it was the temperature,
his touch, or something else — some other sense.
“Bri, wait—” Kean reached for her as the door swung inward, but his hand stopped abruptly at the threshold. Purple sparkles rippled the air and he yanked his hand back and shook it out. He eyed the door with malice as it closed between them.
***
Moncrieffe shut the door with a resounding clunk and let go of the young witch. He held the torch aloft and led her deeper into the drafty vault cavern, which echoed with their shuffling footsteps. The halo of light cast by the flames was small, and the witch — Briana — walked close to him to keep herself within it.
He was still wondering what had come over him before. Zyne matters, especially those of a personal nature, were not his concern. He was an anointed servant to the Synod, but security detail only. He was expected to keep his ears and mouth shut. He’d overstepped his bounds. And yet, he felt a strange draw to this young, troubled woman. As if a part of her had silently reached out to him.
She stayed close, her eyes scanning the darkness beyond the orange flicker on the flagstones. He idly wondered what she saw, or didn’t see. The Kinde saw the veils between planes and all the forces and creatures that crowded them. Even with sunglasses on, he saw the webbing of magic that kept the Arcanum insulated, hidden, and protected.
Briana tripped over her own feet as they veered left, and without thinking, Moncrieffe righted her and then moved the torch to his other hand to give her more light. It was wrong to touch her, too — again — but the girl was clumsy, and his body responded to hers without thinking.
“How do you know where we’re going?” she asked, teeth chattering.
“I don’t.”
She nearly stumbled again. “Wha-t?”
He smiled to himself. Gods, she was green. How had a Councilor’s daughter ended up so clueless? Yet, for knowing so little, he had to admire her courage to face what lay ahead. It had given him a thrill to see the Councilor put in his place by the fiery redhead. But the idea of her ignorance, her susceptibility, disturbed him. He shook the thought away and decided to indulge her curiosity. “The key is enchanted. You need an anointed member of the Synod — that’s me, and the heir of the bloodline — that’s you. Then you just walk. The vault will come to us.”
Rain of Ash: Skydancer Book 1 (The Zyne Legacy) Page 12
