“If he did have them here, then the easiest place to keep them would be at a Cloister or Monastery.”
He offered me a sad smile. “Something for you to investigate in your spare time. See if any of my Changed Ones are at the Midnight Cloister.”
“I’ll try.” I picked up the dagger and flipped it from hand to hand. The thing was so light and innocent-looking to pack such a magickal wallop. This kind of power wouldn’t be easy to go up against. I pictured the totem rings in my pocket and frowned. “Viktor will have weapons like this one on Sunday, won’t he?”
“Yes. And there’s no way to block that blade, let alone break it.”
“We need hybrid weapons, then.” And I don’t feel confident that Jakob will come up with anything soon. There must be another way. “I take it you’ve visited the Sanctuary Fairs.”
“My agents have contacted some Necromancers who may be able to help us.”
“Who? Mother Starlight? The Monk of Longmeadow?”
“Oni and Yuri.”
I almost dropped the dagger, I was so shocked. According to the stories, Oni and Yuri were mages, a man and a woman, and they wielded unbelievable power. Hybrid spells should be no problem, assuming they actually existed. But no one thought they existed.
“That’s your plan? I hate to tell you this, but those two don’t exist. They’re stories for children.”
“All stories start somewhere.”
“They supposedly live on a magickal plane that’s gated from this reality. That’s pretty outrageous stuff.”
“Oni and Yuri are real.” Rowan had his ‘no discussion’ tone on again. “They made contact with Jakob two weeks ago.”
Sure, they did. Jakob must have been pretty drunk to dream that up, but I didn’t want to push the point with Rowan.
“Oni and Yuri want to help us,” Rowan went on. “But they have conditions. I expect to find out what those are any day now. Trust me, they’ll make contact again, and when they do, they’ll give us the hybrid magick we need to fight the Tsar.”
I scratched my head. Rowan’s plan sounded like nonsense. Still, it’s not as if my original plan was all that solid. I needed a new approach as well.
“How about you?” asked Rowan. “What are you thinking of doing, now that you know how the Cloister will really greet a Grand Mistress?”
“I’m still planning to pretend to be a Commoner with untested powers. Hestia, the agent from the market, will take me to the Midnight Cloister fast enough.”
“And what will you do on Sunday?”
Is he kidding? “Kill the Tsar.”
“Assuming I can find you a weapon.”
“I understand what you said about the hybrid magick.” I pulled the totem rings out of my pocket. “But these are charged with spells and ready to go. I’ll have the element of surprise on my side. With any luck, I’ll kill Viktor before he has a chance to fight.”
“If anyone can do it, you can.”
“Thank you.” I hated the blush that heated my cheeks. “We’ll need a means to communicate once I’m inside. What level Necromancer is Jakob?”
“Master, more or less.”
“Then, he can help us.” I pulled off my betrothal ring. “This has a joy spell on it from Tristan. You can use it to track me down and communicate.”
“Aren’t the Cloisters warded to block outside magick?”
“Tristan and I communicate through our curse, and that’s Viktor’s own magick. It should be fine to pass by his wards. You and Jakob can join in that spell while we’re talking. Just tell Jakob that we need to communicate through a dream on Wednesday at midnight. He’ll know what to do.” I set my hand in my pocket and gripped my totem rings. “Is it a plan?”
Rowan nodded toward my hand. “What about those?”
I stilled. “Those what?”
“Your totem rings. There are five more of them. What are the chances they won’t take them from you when you arrive at the Midnight Cloister?”
“I was planning to hide them in my hair.” This was something I’d been thinking about, but the plan didn’t sound so fine when I said it aloud.
“All five?” He shook his head. “And if they find them, they’ll know you for a Grand Mistress. You won’t live long.”
“I’ll be fine. They may not even inspect me.”
Rowan’s face lit up with indignation. “I don’t like this. Your plan has you acting all alone.”
“The Sisters at my old Cloister were elderly. They trained me as best they could, but they couldn’t offer any help. I am alone.”
“That’s not what I meant.” Our gazes locked. “I’m here now.”
“But… I barely know you.”
“You can trust me. I proved it to you at the marketplace.”
“That was one time, Rowan.”
“Let me put it to you another way.” He leaned in closer. “When you first looked at me, I could have sworn you recognized me.”
That’s because I did. The dream. Damn, I didn’t think he noticed that.
I cleared my throat and stalled for time. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Don’t lie, Elea.” He gave me a lopsided grin that warmed me to my toes. “You’re terrible at it, you know.”
I couldn’t help but chuckle. “Fine. Yes, I did recognize you.”
“The Sire of Souls showed me to you, didn’t he?”
I nodded.
“So I’ll ask you again. What’s really holding you back?” Rowan set his hand on my shoulder and I didn’t pull away. “Take my help. The Sire and Lady want us to work together, and I want it, too. I believe this to the marrow of my bones… I can’t defeat Viktor without you. And it won’t work if you’re an aloof mage who keeps running her own plans. I want you as a true partner.”
The words affected me like magick. My pulse sped at the thought of having someone who really was at my back.
Yes, I wanted that, too.
Bit by bit, I reached into my pocket and pulled out my totem rings. The skull patterns were familiar as friends—protection from harm, magick blocker, strength of stone, skeleton sword, and cluster of fireballs. The last one was empty since I’d used them up on Rowan, so I quickly loaded it up with a spell to break any enchanted bindings. If Rowan was right, I was certain to be bound with manacles.
A long silence followed. Rowan watched me with intense interest. I clenched my hand into a fist around my rings. Was I really going to give these to an almost-stranger? My hand didn’t want to open.
“If I give these to you, how will you get them back to me?”
“My agents have infiltrated the traders who bring deliveries to the back gate. We’ll hide them in one of the packages.”
“You might try a shipment of Grand Mistress robes. The Midnight won’t use them, but they can’t refuse them either. And in my Cloister, we all had access to the cloak room.”
“Consider it done.”
My hand still wouldn’t move. Why did this have to be so hard? Finally, I forced my arm forward and gently set the rings onto Rowan’s outstretched palm. My hand felt so empty without them. “I worked five years on those rings.”
Rowan held them against his chest. “I’ll guard them with my life.”
“All right.” Hopefully.
“Do you need some time now?” asked Rowan. “Take a break? There’s more to eat, if you like.”
“No. We should get back to planning.” I straightened my shoulders. “Now, how will you get inside the Cloister on Sunday?”
I can’t believe I said that out loud. Rowan and I really attacking the Tsar on Sunday. Together.
“The Vicomte is already visiting the Midnight Cloister along with the Tsar. The two of them are—”
“Allies, I know.”
“Genesis Rex asked for a formal meeting with them both. The reply is due back any day now.”
“And if they say no?”
“We’ll storm the delivery gate.” His gaze met mine, and all t
he determination in the world was set into his eyes. “Either way, this will be over in on week.”
“Yes, it will.” I hopped to my feet, my limbs buzzing with nervous energy. “Unless there’s anything else you can think of, I want to find Hestia and get myself abducted. Tomorrow is Tuesday, after all. I need time to look around.”
Rowan looked up at me. “That’s all I can think of for now. Good luck, Elea.” The lines of his face grew hard. I’d seen that look before—he was worried about me. I wanted to shake his hand or even worse, share an embrace.
Don’t Elea. Now most of all, you need to stay in control.
I forced my face into a mask of calm. “And good luck to you as well.” With that, I turned on my heel and stepped off into the darkness. I wasn’t fifty paces from the campsite when a heavy set of arms wrapped around me from behind, holding me in place. The rough touch made me freeze with surprise.
And so it begins.
Chapter Six
The man’s paunchy belly pressed into my back as his thick fingers dug into my stomach. How I itched to cast a bone melter spell. This fiend could be a pile of gelatinous goo in seconds.
Don’t fight it, Elea. You knew that they’d do this. It’s your best way into the Midnight Cloister.
Still, it’s one thing to think about being attacked and dragged away, it’s another to have someone’s whiskey-foul breath oozing down your neck.
Hestia stepped into a patch of moonlight before me. “Hello again, Sweetling.”
I writhed against the man’s grip and tried to look like a frightened country girl instead of an enraged Grand Mistress Necromancer. “What’s this about?”
Hestia forced on a false smile. “All we want is a friendly chat, now that you’re gone from the Casters.” The moonlight created a halo of light behind her dark curtain of hair. “We don’t want you running away again.”
Let her have her say, Elea. The,n the goon will let you go.
“Why would I run? I was coming to find you.” I blinked a lot, hoping that might help my illusion of frailty.
“Ah, I see.” Hestia waved to my captor. “Our error.”
The man released me and I quickly stepped closer to Hestia. “I truly wish to join the Midnight Cloister.” And get away from your henchman.
“Good. There’s just one little test we must perform before we go.” Hestia pulled back her robes to reveal her left shoulder. The skin there was raised in the shape of a letter ‘v’. Her mark. “You know what this means?”
Now, I guessed this was the part in her little play where I gasped in awe at the symbol of our beloved Tsar. And in truth, it might be better for me to grovel at this point, but I wasn’t that good of an actress.
So, I played the simpleton instead. That much, I could manage easily. “What is that?” I did a lot of squinting. “I can’t see in the dark, you know.” And I want a better look at your mark. I’d never seen one close-up before.
An evil grin rounded Hestia’s mouth. “It means that I serve Tsar Viktor the Great. And this mark is how I will test you.” She grabbed my wrist and set it against her bare shoulder.
I froze with surprise. This encounter was becoming weirder by the second. “What are you doing?”
“This is the test, Sweetling. You may have imagined your powers. It’s not worth my time to send off someone with no raw Necromancer energy. The Cloister won’t accept you.” She pressed my fingertips against the ‘v’ of raised skin on her shoulder. Her flesh was clammy and slick. My stomach roiled. “Give it a moment. I’ll soon know the truth.”
Please, not the truth. If I was exposed as a Grand Mistress, I was good as dead.
Seconds passed as I pictured this situation turning into a disaster. The last time I touched hybrid magick, it was Rowan’s dagger. That encounter had ended with a flash of purple light and me blown six feet away. Of course, I’d tried to pump power into the weapon, which I wouldn’t do now. Still, who knew what would happen when I interacted with a real mark?
All of a sudden, a wall of magick slammed into me. On reflex, I firmed up my footing. Lucky thing, too. If I hadn’t, I might have toppled over. More brick-hard power pummeled into my hand. If I let this go on, there might be another blast of light, like what had happened at the oasis. That could expose my true identity.
I yanked my arm back with force. “There, I did it.”
Hestia closed her eyes, her nostrils flaring as she inhaled deeply. “Hmm… I can sense the Necromancer power in you. You’re strong. The Midnight Cloister will pay well for that.” She opened her eyes and glared at me. “You’ll have another test when you arrive at the Cloister gate. Don’t muck it up and try to run away. You’ll end up dead and I won’t get a farthing.”
I fluttered my lashes at her. “I’ll do my best. I realize what a great chance this is for a girl like me.”
“Quite right.” Hestia pulled out some loops of metal from the folds of her robes. It took everything I had not to bat them out of her hands.
Enchanted manacles.
“Now,” continued Hestia. “The Midnight requires all its Novices to wear these. Merely a safety precaution.” She snapped the thick irons around my wrists.
I knew this was coming. Still, I wasn’t prepared for the actual sensation. Normally, a steady flow of soul magick poured into my body. That energy evaporated, leaving me feeling hollowed-out and miserable. I hadn’t felt such fierce grief since Tristan died.
“She’s not taking ‘em well,” said the man behind me.
“Then, put her to sleep,” said Hestia. “She’ll journey better that way.”
I was wondering what kind of spell they’d use when the man slammed his fist into the back of my head. My skull exploded with pain as the desert night disappeared into perfect darkness.
Chapter Seven
I woke up to a heavy pounding noise. At first, I thought that someone was knocking on a door. Then I realized that the thumps came from inside my head.
It was my own pulse.
I cracked my eyes open—even that tiny movement hurt—and I found myself encased in semi-darkness. My eyes slowly adjusted to the dim light.
I was trapped inside a boxy wagon as it rumbled along an uneven road. Horses whinnied outside. Inside the stifling-hot box, my body had turned so sweaty, my back felt stuck to the wooden wall behind me.
What I wouldn’t give for a gulp of water.
Thin tendrils of light peeped through the seams along the wagon’s roof. It was daytime now. Tuesday, most likely. The Tsar—and my curse—arrived on Sunday. And this wagon was taking me to the Midnight Cloister.
Five days left. I could do this.
I shifted my weight and felt a rope tighten around my waist. I was secured in a line with five other girls, three of us seated on each side. Everyone looked bedraggled and covered in sweat. The wagon hit a deep rut in the road, jostling us off our seats for a moment. One of the girls started pounding on the wood panel that separated us from the driver. She was willowy, about my age, and had blonde curls that cascaded down her back.
“Hey, there,” she said. “I won’t repeat myself again. I’m Mademoiselle Veronique Adeline Josephine de Haverville. I’m second cousin to the fourth family line of the Vicomte himself. I don’t belong here. Release me before you pay the consequences.”
Consequences? I was stunned. She was one of the Forgotten and a Royal. The worst she could do was pound on the wall, and she’d done that already.
The other girls took up her cry anyway.
“We’re all under her protection,” said one.
“Tell him, Veronique,” added another.
“You have to set us free,” cried a third.
All four girls stared doe-eyed at Veronique, absolutely convinced that she’d soon save them all. I almost felt sorry for them.
Once again, Veronique slammed her palm against the wagon panel behind the driver’s head, one pound for every word. “Set! Me! Loose!”
A girl tapped Veronique’s arm. “Se
t us loose, you mean.”
“That’s what I said.” Veronique rolled her eyes. “Set us loose.”
I slumped further back against the wall behind me. If my plan were to succeed, it’d be good to have allies inside the Midnight Cloister. Veronique wasn’t an option, though. She was everything I distrusted when it came to Royals. Whining. Entitled. Not too bright.
Veronique’s friends continued to congratulate her for the clever threats against the driver. The girl who was tied beside me watched the show with interest. She had ebony skin, long braided hair, gold-colored eyes, and an air of confidence despite her ragged dress. She turned and offered me her hand. “I’m Nan.”
I shook Nan’s hand without so much as a wince. Funny how quickly it comes back to you. “I’m Elea.”
“You all right, Elea? You look like you’re about to lose your larder.”
“My head’s been better. I’ll be fine, though.”
She lowered her voice. “You know where they’re taking us, right?”
“To the Midnight Cloister.”
Veronique now kicked at the wall behind the driver. “I am one of the Forgotten. You know what that means? I don’t have any magick. And more than that, I’m not just a lowly Commoner. You carry a Royal in your carriage. You’ll pay for this outrage. Set me loose, I say!”
Nan shot me a sly look. “Right proper ninny, ain’t she?”
Veronique rounded on Nan. “How dare you call me names, you gutter wench? I’m the ward of the Vicomte himself. You’re nothing more than a street thief and penny whore.”
Nan leaned back. “You’d know a whore, I suppose. Heard all about the Vicomte and his wards, I did.”
I smiled. Nan seemed cool under pressure and a sharp judge of character. Fine ally material.
Veronique’s blue eyes turned wild. She lunged for Nan, but the ropes held her back before she could get too far. Since we were all connected, the movement yanked on everyone else, pinning us against the wall. My back slammed with enough force to knock some air out of my lungs. Everyone else wore looks of shock except Nan, who’d had the foresight to lean against the wall in the first place.
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