by M. K. Dawn
Samantha raised her hand to knock, but the door opened before her knuckles hit the wood.
“Come in.” Guinevere’s musical voice brought with it a wave of calmness that Silvaria had explained was part of her magical ability and shouldn’t be trusted.
Samantha entered the hut with a forced confidence that she feared would vanish at the first sign of trouble.
“I’ll be right with you,” Guinevere called from a back room. “Please make yourself comfortable.”
Samantha's eyes swept the cluttered room that looked more like a shop than a home. A vast number of jars filled the rickety shelves, most of which looked like they hadn’t been touched in years.
As Samantha moved in to get a better look, Guinevere reappeared. “I’m so sorry. When I said to make yourself comfortable…I guess I should have made that possible.”
With a flick of her wrist, the shop disappeared. In its place appeared a two-person table with plush chairs. Off to the left, there was a breakfast bar with a variety of pastries, coffees, and teas.
“I know it’s evening, but I wasn’t sure what the customary meal is for when you wake.”
Samantha surveyed the spread. “There’s no set rule. I grew up with dinner as the first meal, but many I know wake and have a more traditional breakfast.”
“Please help yourself. Or if you would like, I can change it?”
“No.” Samantha made herself a coffee and picked out a blueberry scone even though knots filled her stomach. “This looks delicious.”
Darrien had told her to eat if offered and not just pick at her food—that was a clear sign of nervousness. Silvaria had cast a spell upon Samantha which would prevent Guinevere from using magic to detect lies, which was something Silvaria said Guinevere resorted to often.
“Come, have a seat,” Guinevere waved her over, “and tell me why you wished to speak to me. Are you having doubts?”
Samantha settled into the chair across from her and pinched off a piece of her scone, savoring the rich flavor. “This is amazing.”
“Thank you. I’ll pass your compliment to the chef.”
“Chef?” Samantha sipped her tea. If Guinevere put a spell on her food, she wanted to make a show out of ingesting both. That way, when they spoke on the true nature of her visit, Guinevere would trust what she said. “When you used your magic to make the food appear, I assumed it was made by magic. Is that the correct terminology?”
“We cannot make something out of nothing. I summoned the already prepared food from the kitchen.”
Samantha took another bite of scone. “So how do you make the huts look so much smaller from the outside?”
Guinevere’s eyes sparkled with pride. “With an illusion spell. It’s easy to master; even the youngest of witches have no trouble conjuring up the spell when needed.”
“So when you changed this room, where did everything go? Is it still an illusion?” Samantha knew straying off subject might not be the right course of action, but curiosity had gotten the best of her.
“When you try to understand magic with the laws of the earthly world, it will never make sense. Our powers come from a divine power which has no boundaries.”
“Except for the creation of food.”
Guinevere chuckled. “A few boundaries.” She took a sip of her tea. “But I don’t believe you came here to discuss magic.”
“Sorry.” Samantha set her coffee on the table, surprised at the steadiness of her hand. “I tend to get distracted at times.” When Guinevere didn’t respond, she continued. “I came to ask if it would be okay if my friends went home.”
Her face remained emotionless. “Go home? Without you? I thought you were closer than that.”
Even though Samantha expected the question—had prepared and gone over the answer dozens of times—her heart still contracted. “We are…close. More like family than friends.”
“Then why would they turn their backs on you so easily?”
“They aren’t turning their backs on me. The idea was mine. I don’t want them to go with us.”
Guinevere straightened in her seat. “No?”
Samantha held back the urge to bite at her lips. Darrien had flicked at them each time she’d done it today to the point that they were still tender. “I should rephrase. It’s not that I don’t want them to go, but it’s not safe. For any of us. I’m an heir, and I will convince the others that my absence was not of my own freewill. I can’t do that if we bring two werewolves and a known rebel with us.”
“Does that mean you trust us—this coven—with your safety?”
This was the question Samantha dreaded the most. The one she struggled to keep her emotions in check when asked even though she had rehearsed the answer so many times she’d lost count. “Why wouldn’t I trust you? You have welcomed us with open arms, told us about our origin, and offered help with a dire situation.”
“We only want what’s best.” Guinevere rose and glided around the room. How she moved with such grace, Samantha would never figure out. “They are free to go, not that they weren’t before. You are guests, not our prisoners.”
“The word prisoner never crossed our minds. We—I—wanted to make sure you didn’t need their help before they took off.”
“Do they have a safe passage home?”
Samantha stood and smoothed out her shirt. “We have a friend back in town that has reserved seat for them on a ship.”
Guinevere toyed with trays on the bar. “Good. Though the journey will take upwards to a week depending on the weather.”
“I don’t suppose you have a faster way home?”
“Unfortunately, no.” Guinevere rotated around. “That specific ability was rare when our coven first began, and it is now non-existent.”
Her response surprised Samantha—especially since Silvaria had sent them back to their hut with a wave of her hand. “Well, thank you for seeing me. I will let my friends know they are free to go.”
“Visit anytime.” The door swung open and Guinevere walked her out. “We are family, after all.”
Once out of sight of Guinevere’s hut, Samantha sprinted the rest of the way back, in desperate need of a stiff drink. Everything had gone as planned. Easier than planned. They’d expected Guinevere to put up a fight, but she hadn’t. As much as Samantha wanted to be relieved, the dread that had filled her belly exploded into full-blown panic. She’d be on her own, surrounded by her enemy who wanted nothing more than to see her dead, with only the promised help of a witch who was still a stranger.
Silvaria had already turned her back on her coven; who was to say she wouldn’t do the same to them? There were still secrets she kept hidden. For her own protection or those she promised to help save, Samantha didn’t know. The only thing she could do now was pray for the best and prepare for the worst.
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
“We shouldn’t have let her go alone.” Ethan paced in front of the window. “As brave and as selfless as Samantha is, she’s a horrible liar. Guinevere will see right through her.”
“She’ll be fine,” Darrien said, throwing a ball in the air that he found in the closet. “She’s been in worse situations before and came out kicking.”
“Like when we broke into the synthetic blood center and she got shot?” Ethan raked his hands through his hair. “Can you give the ball a rest?” He’d been throwing it since Samantha left.
Darrien flung his feet off the coffee table. “There are only three things in this world that calm me down: running, fu—”
“Watch it,” Evie warned.
“Sorry.” Darrien shot her a little wink. “Running, lovemaking, and mindless activities such as throwing this ball and catching it. It also works if I pitch it against the wall, but I thought that would be annoying.”
“Whatever.” Ethan paused and stared out the window like it would somehow make Samantha magically appear. With that thought, an idea came to mind. “Silvaria.”
“Yes?” She lifted her head from t
he book she’d been reading since Samantha left.
“You made yourself invisible to listen to our conversation. Can’t you do that now? Make sure everything is going okay?”
Silvaria’s smile slipped. “No. As powerful as I am, I cannot penetrate the protection spells Guinevere keeps on her hut. She’s a very private person.”
Darrien snorted. “I would be too if I was plotting to wipe all immortal beings from the planet.”
“I doubt that’s the only secret she’s keeping.” Silvaria closed her book and set it on the end table. “Even though black magic consumes our coven, we still carry within us the soul of one who is devoted to the God of Light.”
Evie joined Silvaria on the couch. “That must cause a lot of conflicting thoughts and emotions.”
“Indeed.” Silvaria closed her eyes. “Samantha is fine—anxious and her heart is racing, but physically she is fine and—”
The front door flew open and Samantha barged inside.
“…And she’s here,” Silvaria finished her sentence.
Ethan glared at the witch. “You couldn’t have told us she was on her way five minutes ago?”
“Pinpointing someone's location,” Silvaria said in a tranquil voice, “is difficult when I focus completely on that person; it’s near impossible when holding a conversation.”
“Um…guys,” Darrien jerked his thumb to the kitchen, “should we talk about why Samantha is mixing herself a drink, or wait until the Calvary comes knocking to take us all away?”
“No Calvary,” Samantha stammered between gulps.
Ethan resisted the urge to comforter her, instead taking a seat back on the couch. “Are you okay? What happened?”
“You weren’t there very long.” Silvaria moved next to Ethan. “Did you meet with Guinevere?”
“I did.” Samantha ran her hands over her face. “It went fine. She said you all can go.”
Darrien and Evie joined Samantha in the kitchen, Darrien taking Samantha’s glass and draining the amber liquid.
“Hey,” she snatched the glass back, “get your own.”
Ethan scratched at the scruff at his chin. “Maybe this isn’t the best time to be getting drunk.”
“Why?” Darrien opened the cabinet above Samantha’s head and grabbed four more glasses. “We got what we wanted; why not celebrate the small victory? They are rare when it comes to this crowd.”
“What kind of questions did she ask?” Silvaria fidgeted beside Ethan.
“Not much.” Samantha wrinkled her nose. “To be honest, I expected her to put up more of a fight. It surprised her you’d leave me, and I told her what you told me to: that it was my idea because I thought being who you all are, it would cause problems with the other heirs.”
“That’s it?” Ethan rubbed his sweating palms on his pant legs. The whole situation seemed too easy.
“She asked if I trusted the coven and I told her yes. Then she said you all were free to leave.”
Silvaria pushed off the couch, her hopeful expression sobered. “Then it’s true.”
“What’s true?” Ethan asked.
Silvaria brushed the fallen hairs from her face. “Everything we suspected.”
“Wait a second,” Darrien said, glass of bourbon still in hand. “I thought you knew for sure Guinevere was planning on killing all the heirs. And on that note, how is her letting us leave important?”
“She did ask,” Samantha interjected, “how you were getting home. She appeared to be happy that it was by ship. Mentioned that it would take a week at least.”
“And you’re scheduled to go meet with the heirs in less than a week.” Evie snatched Darrien’s glass and took a sip. He hadn’t gotten around to pouring anyone else a drink but himself. “Which means we won’t be around to help you when things go bad.”
“And it’s why she didn’t offer to send you home,” Silvaria added. “Or at least I assume she didn’t.”
Samantha wrinkled her brow. “You mean the way you sent us back to our room?”
“Yes.”
“She said no one in the coven has that capability.”
Catching Guinevere in a blatant lie dissolved any lingering reservations Ethan had about Silvaria.
“The good news is,” she gave a bitter laugh, “with you three leaving, you’ll be safe for now.”
Ethan caught her eye. “Would we be not be safe if we stayed?”
“There’s no doubt she would have had you three killed before we left for the Immortal Institute,” Silvaria said.
Samantha sucked in an audible breath. “Why not just leave them behind?”
“The God of Darkness would not allow it.” Silvaria’s gaze flickered to each of them.
“Oh.” The glass slipped from Evie’s fingers and shattered on the floor before anyone reacted.
Darrien cupped her check and lifted her chin to face him. “What happened? Are you all right?”
“Yes,” Evie nodded, “it's just…how much time do we have?”
Silvaria glanced out the window before shutting the blinds. “They won’t make a move until you leave.”
“Shit,” Darrien muttered.
“Wait a minute.” Ethan had missed something—something important judging by the tension in the room. “What’s the problem?”
Samantha looked just as confused as he felt. “Yeah. I think I missed something too. Guinevere said they could leave.”
“Leave, yes.” Silvaria sank to the couch. “Alive? That’s not the coven’s way.”
CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
Samantha stormed into her bedroom, slamming the door so hard the walls rattled. “That bitch!”
Ethan cracked open the door and stuck his head inside. “Is it safe to come in?”
“Probably not.” Samantha threw herself on the bed. She’d never felt so angry in her life.
“Since my blood is the equivalent of drinking acid, I think I’ll risk it.” He locked the door and laid on the bed beside her, intertwining their fingers.
“How are you so calm?” Samantha went to pull her fingers from his grasp, but he only held on tighter. “I don’t need you to come in here to try and comfort me.”
“I’m calm because we have Silvaria to get us out. Guinevere thinks we are heading for town, which is where she’ll send her people to look for us. By the time they figure out what happened we’ll be long gone.”
Samantha’s chest clenched at the thought of the witches after them in the first place. “These people are powerful—more powerful than they are letting on. Who’s to say they don’t figure out the plan and intercept you before Silvaria gets you out of here? What about Nikko? We can’t leave him here.”
“As we speak, Silvaria is using Darrien to contact Nikko. Then she’ll transport him to the spot where Silvaria will send us home.”
“She can do that?” Samantha bit at her lip to the point she nearly drew blood. “How?”
“Nikko and Darrien share a long history. The connection between them is powerful. She’ll use that power to grasp his essence and transport him.”
Samantha turned her head to face Ethan. “That’s crazy.”
He brushed his lips along her forehead. “It’s magic. Seems anything is possible.”
“Not everything,” Samantha mumbled under her breath.
Ethan narrowed his eyes. “What was that?”
“Nothing important.” She stared into his sapphire eyes for a long time, savoring what little time they had left together. “When do you leave?”
“A few hours. Right before sun up. Silvaria said the witches’ power is weakened by the light, and as the dark magic hasn’t taken her yet, the light strengthens her powers.”
“What about Darrien when the sun comes up?”
Ethan skimmed her forehead with the tip of a finger and tucked stray hair behind her ear. “Going to cast a spell—for both of you—that blocks the sun burning your skin. It’s the same spell used by the Primordials that allowed you to be out in the sun.”
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“It will be nice to have the option. It sucks being trapped indoors for half the day.”
Ethan laughed. “I can imagine.”
Samantha’s eyes met his. “Sorry. I forget not too long ago they locked you in a dungeon.”
“It feels like that happened ages ago and yesterday all at the same time.”
“I know the feeling well.” Her hand fell to her belly before she quickly moved it away.
Ethan stroked her arm. “Speaking of, I think there are some things we need to clear up.”
“I agree.” Chills swept over her body. She knew Ethan well enough to spot the regret in his eyes and it broke her heart.
“When my emotions came back…I can’t even describe the sensation. Overwhelming doesn’t seem to do it justice. Plus, werewolves have heightened emotions anyway, so it was like a double whammy. I don’t think I articulated what I’m feeling and I’m sorry for that.”
Samantha dropped her eyes. “I understand. Losing a child is enough to handle without everything else.”
“True. But what I really want to talk about is…I said something thinking you were awake, but you had fallen asleep already. It didn’t mean—”
“It’s okay.” Samantha choked on the words. “I heard you and I understand. All your emotions coming back at once, it’s easy to get them confused.”
“Confused?” Ethan rolled to his back. “I wasn’t confused. Were you confused? Are you confused? Wait, what are we confused about?”
Samantha popped her head up, grinning at Ethan. “You’re mocking me.”
“No, you interrupted me and put words in my mouth that weren’t mine.”
Samantha squeezed her eyes shut, unable to take the pending pain any longer. “Finish your sentence. Get it over with.”
“You won’t even look at me?”
She buried her head in the pillow. “No.”
“Samantha?”
She refused to budge.
“Fine. What I was going to say is: I didn’t mean to tell you I love you in such a gutless way. I got scared that after everything I put you through, you didn’t feel the same way. But then you whispered you loved me before we fell asleep…”
