Veil of Thorns

by Gwen Mitchell

  Though it was a relief to know her intuition not to trust them had been right, it was still a chill-inducing feeling to learn she was an unwitting prisoner in her own life. It was important that she not alter her routine or leave any obvious indication of where she’d gone, because the Synod would undoubtedly pursue her.

  Though the shadow wraith could come and go from her house at will without detection, Lucas had stayed away. They’d been communicating solely through text messages as he coordinated their travel and got them outfitted with the right gear—something Bri had no clue about, so she’d been happy to leave him in charge.

  The first part of their plan was relatively simple. Bri and Lucas would wander into Hedvika’s lair searching for the source of the legends and throw themselves upon her mercy. Pride was one of her weak points, so they would come to her as supplicants seeking guidance.

  After that, it got trickier.

  Bri had to earn her trust, discover the location of the book, and then steal it.

  Ryder swore he had no idea where she kept the divan.

  It was probably cached away, like her mirror, which meant she would have to convince Hedvika to bring it out of hiding.

  Despite the lack of faith from her accomplices, she was confident she could play her part well enough. If being almost-engaged to a politician had taught her anything, it was how to make people feel important so that they lowered their guard. That had been her role at every gala and state dinner—to make Eric look like he cared about the arts and to put the people around him at ease with her soft-spoken charm and wit. Hubris was hubris. Centuries of age probably only amplified it.

  It’s just another performance.

  She would find a way. For Kean.

  Once she and Lucas were already halfway around the globe, Ryder would slip the Syond’s leash and meet them in Romania. While they made all sorts of ruckus on their way to the White Wood, drawing Vika’s attention, he was going to sneak past her wards and remain hidden in shadow. When Bri gave the signal, Ryder would fly them out of there, hopefully with the book in tow.

  Bri had been clear that no one was supposed to die unless it was in self-defense. She was doing this to save a life she owed—she didn’t want any more blood staining her Karma.

  Ryder had been reluctant to change his price and cagey about what Hedvika had stolen from him, but Bri was adamant, and he eventually agreed to her terms.

  The catch: whether Bri got the book or not, she would owe him an open-ended favor.

  The other catch: Ryder would have to…feed from her for the span of the trip.

  Hohlwen were not bound to the Synod in the same way as Kinde. They served because the laws of the Synod had forced them to remain near Arcanum—the only place where they could legally siphon what they needed to survive. Once he left for an extended period of time, Ryder would need another source of energy.

  She was not happy about that part of the bargain. Lucas even less so. But she had agreed. No cost was too high to get Kean back, as long as it was within her power and didn’t involve murder.

  Now, the day to set their plan into motion had come.

  She was surprisingly calm as she and Astrid rode silently through the choppy waves aboard the Sea Kettle, the mortal transport from North Wake to the Arcanum’s hidden island.

  Bri would attend her regular lesson while Astrid combed the archives for more information on Lumeres. She was also going to sneak away and meet with Lucas’s source and collect the database he’d compiled for them.

  She and Lucas were booked on a midnight flight to London, under aliases. From there, several trains and a rental car would take them to Somnisor, at the foot of the Carpathian Mountains.

  From there, it was out of the frying pan and into the fire.

  Once they crossed Hedvika’s wards, they would be untraceable, even by magic. Which wasn’t exactly comforting.

  Kean would most likely say it was fucking insane relying entirely on two immortals she barely knew to whisk her out of the Synod’s reach and risking the council’s ire when she returned. It was probably Kean’s worst nightmare come to life.

  Luckily, Astrid was the pragmatic one of their trio and more than willing to assist in Bri’s insanity.

  The bleary-eyed captain of the Sea Kettle dropped them unceremoniously on the dock at the base of the Arcanum’s fortress. A hundred feet above, towers and spires loomed in the slate-colored sky. From the treetops, Bri felt the icy prickle of Hohlwen watching.

  Astrid gazed up the steep switchbacks of hewn stone stairs and groaned. “It’s times like these when it’s handy to have a Ward around.”

  Bri smiled fondly, remembering the first time she’d come here. She’d been so irritated with Kean for fading with her. Now she wished for the yellow spots and nausea every time she made the hike. “Come on, let’s see if those runner’s legs can handle twelve stories.”

  “Twelve stories?” Astrid whined, though she quickened her pace to keep up.

  When they reached the top, Astrid was somehow controlling her breathing, but favoring a stitch in her side. After a few more steps, she bent over with her hands on her knees. “You do that twice a week?”

  “Not that fast, usually.” Bri was barely warmed up. Lucas’s magic hadn’t shown any signs of wearing off yet. She still felt stronger than she had in years…maybe ever. “You were the one goading me to go faster. You’re almost as bad as Kean.”

  “Has it ever occurred to you that maybe you’re the competitive one?”

  “I don’t start the fights, I just finish them.” Bri winked and bumped Astrid’s shoulder.

  Astrid snorted and bumped her back. They passed by two silent Kinde guards in their black suits and sunglasses as they climbed the last set of steps to the Arcanum’s front entrance. The ornately carved twenty-foot wooden doors opened as they approached and closed behind them without a whisper of sound, encasing them in the sparkling black granite entry hall.

  Two more pairs of Kinde sentries were posted at either end. She’d have to remember to ask Lucas what was up with the sunglasses indoors.

  Stop thinking about him.

  She tried not to, but he was ever-present via text. Asking her preferences on things, if she had certain equipment. Her shoe-size. Her bra-size. What she liked for breakfast. All kinds of random stuff. She ended up conversing with him in the process, because otherwise it felt like she was answering a survey. Plus, he was going through all this effort to help her. He’d accepted her decision without complaint or question. It was generous.

  Once she’d gotten over the shock of not having to fight for every inch—as she normally would with Kean—she realized it was probably too generous. But in her current situation, she couldn’t look a gift wolf in the mouth.

  Bri led them through the labyrinth of identical hallways, which she’d memorized a route through by counting turns. The most useful advice Councilor Amin had given her to date was to think of each destination within the Arcanum like a lock with its own unique combination.

  “Sorry, more stairs,” she said over her shoulder as they began the climb up the spiral steps of the south tower.

  She couldn’t help thinking about Lucas, really. He was there in her dreams, there on her phone, and the rest of the time, she wondered what their trip would be like. They would be traveling together, spending an unknown amount of time together behind enemy lines. Facing any number of unknown threats. She wasn’t sure if they would get along. She wasn’t sure if she should trust him.

  You’re not even sure you should be doing this.

  This was the exact type of situation where it should be useful to be an Oracle. She kept trying to see into the future, but her visions were like watercolors left out in the rain. She’d spent her whole life suppressing her magic. It was an atrophied muscle she was trying to flex for the first time. A muscle that liked to spasm and cramp on its own sometimes. Because night terrors and migraines were so fun.

  But that had changed since Lucas had been
around, too. Her magic felt more settled. Grounded. Maybe now she just needed to practice reaching for it instead of pushing it down. Except, she was out of time to practice.

  Astrid was a bright shade of pink as they spilled onto the fifth-floor landing. The fortress was arranged with four directional towers that climbed out of the hollowed-out mountain, lording over the misty treetops. The towers were linked to each other by a series of covered bridges with stained glass windows. At the lower levels of the south tower were offices and spell rooms for the use of the councilors and other Synod staff.

  In the center of the four towers was the archives. It extended up thirteen floors from the main level of the fortress and drilled down another nine levels into the heart of the mountain. Those lower levels were well-guarded by spells and immortals and filled with the most powerful magical objects the Synod protected. Protect the Legacy was the first and most sacred vow of the Threefold Path of the Zyne.

  At the very bottom level was the vault, a spelled cavern where the Legacies of all the Zyne bloodlines were stored. The key to Bri’s family chest still hung on a chain around her neck, but she hadn’t been back to the vault since Lucas had taken her the first time. The chest and all of its contents were safely tucked away in the closet of Ce-Ce’s study.

  Bri had pored over every item, catalogued it, and searched all the books for anything to help with Kean’s curse. Nothing she’d found had been useful.

  The only item in the chest of more than sentimental importance was the ancient seeing mirror Vivianne had once safeguarded as well. Bri had tucked that relic away with a spell months ago and hadn’t retrieved it since. She was too afraid of the seductive whisper of the mirror’s ancient magic. Despite the lure of being able to see the certain future with perfect clarity, its power was too dangerous to possess.

  Still, she’d considered it.

  Aunt Geri had said the mirror could show anyone anything, and in Bri’s experience, with one hundred percent accuracy. It could also serve as a doorway between realms—that was what the Soul Eater had wanted it for.

  It had crossed her mind more than once that there might be some way to use the mirror as a doorway to Kean’s plane, but she was supposed to protect the Legacy relic, not use it. The best way to keep the mirror safe was to forget it existed.

  Admit it, you’re afraid of the future too.

  Maybe that was the real reason her powers hadn’t kicked into high gear. Did she even want them to? When had her visions ever held something good for her? All she’d ever seen was death.

  Councilor Amin had chosen an office on the fifth floor that put him equidistant to the archives and the kitchens. It had a southern-facing window, which he’d converted into a reading nook. Unlike her father’s drab, formal chamber, Councilor Amin’s office was decked out in vivid, rich silk curtains, tapestries, and cushions. There was a plant tucked into every nook and cranny not filled with scrolls or potions. It smelled like old books, spiced tea, and honey cakes. The floor was a patchwork of thick carpets, sometimes three layers deep. None of the fireplaces at the Arcanum put out any real heat, all their warmth seeping into the cold stone, but the fire in Amin’s office was always bright and jolly, and he used magic to keep the room a comfortable temperature and humidity.

  Astrid shuffled in behind her and glanced around, confused for a moment. She took in the cozy room, the flower-scented air, and beamed with relief.

  “Ah, you have brought me another pupil today, Briana?” said the short, portly scholar as he tucked a large tome onto a shelf below a pile of scrolls. His wide mouth curled into a smile and his dark chocolate eyes danced with pleasure.

  “Yes. Er, sort of? Councilor Amin, this is Astrid.”

  Amin grasped Astrid’s hand in both of his own and gazed into her eyes, most likely tasting her magic. “A pleasure, miss…?”

  “Edgewood,” Astrid said.

  “Ah. Another Edgewood. I have had the pleasure of sitting at council with your aunt on several occasions.” He released her hand and gave the slightest bow.

  Bri tried to hold back her snigger. Astrid hated when people heard her last name and started acting like she was royalty. Bri couldn’t blame her. Coming from a rich and influential bloodline was the least interesting thing about Astrid, but for many people, once they heard her last name, they couldn’t see past it.

  “And what can I do for you today? You are far too advanced for Bri’s lessons.”

  Bri scowled, but he had yet to even look at her since he saw Astrid.

  Maybe if you were actually teaching me anything useful.

  Bri sighed and shook out her frustration as he proceeded to ignore her and pepper Astrid with questions. She was supposed to be the one to keep Councilor Amin distracted while Astrid snuck away and met their contact at the gymnasium on the third floor, but he seemed far more distracted by Astrid as she reeled him in with a story about the gremlin hiding under her brew tanks.

  Astrid gave her a look as Amin turned his back, nudging her head at the door.

  Bri nodded. Astrid would lay down cover, and she would pick up the package. It felt sort of like old times, sneaking cigarillos out of Moaggen’s Smoke Shop.

  “Oh, Bri, dear?” Councilor Amin said, his bushy white eyebrows arched wide.

  She blinked at him innocently. “Hm?”

  “You know where we left off, yes?”

  “Yes.”

  “Splendid! I’m going to show Miss Edgewood a few things in the restricted section.” He grinned at Astrid as he guided her out of the room. “Let’s stop off at the kitchen for a fresh pot of tea and a snack first.”

  Bri waited a few minutes until she could be certain they’d reached the stairwell. She breezed down the hall to the stairs in the opposite direction of the kitchen and slipped silently down two flights.

  She popped out in a mahogany-lined hallway with a tapestry or fresco every thirty feet or so. At the end of the hall was a set of double-doors. As she approached, she heard what sounded like a basketball game in progress.

  She bit her lip and debated turning around. But they still needed all the information they could get. Even Astrid would hopefully seize the opportunity to lift anything useful from the restricted section of the library. She could easily bamboozle Amin—he was already half besotted. Astrid owed not a small part of her success at staying—mostly—out of trouble to that legendary Edgewood charm.

  If plan A didn’t deliver, Astrid’s research in the archives and Lucas’s database were where plan B would begin.

  If you live to see plan B.

  She shook her head and shoved through one of the doors, stumbling onto the court and turning in a circle as her vision adjusted to the bright overhead lights.

  The loud echoes of a ball bouncing ceased. She found herself gawking at six very large, very half-naked, very lethal Kinde. They stared back at her, a couple with their heads cocked, as if they weren’t sure what they were seeing, a few with a more predatory glint in their shining eyes.

  She scanned their faces for the one that met Lucas’s description. Her gaze settled on the one with midnight skin, a bald head, and three small silver hoops in each ear.

  He jumped into motion, his movements lithe as he stepped between his teammates to her side. “Are you lost, miss?”

  “I’m so sorry,” she said, sounding about to burst into tears. “I got turned around and went into a bit of a panic.”

  A sharp white smile cut through his dark face. His canines looked especially long. “It happens all the time. I’ll show you back to the main entry and you can start over.”

  “Th-thank you,” she murmured, as they went out the double doors.

  He led her back to the stairwell and handed her a thumb drive from his pocket.

  “Thank you,” she said again, meeting his amber gaze.

  He shook his head. “No thanks needed. Just tell the Captain we’re square.”

  She nodded that she understood, and he slipped back down the hall, swift and silent
.

  What was that about?

  She hadn’t known Lucas had been a Captain of the Kinde guard. But there was plenty she didn’t know about him. She drifted up the steps, lost in thought about her regressions and all the centuries that had passed. The unknown number of centuries before. All the things she would never know about him, even if she remembered everything from his time with Vivianne.

  She had just tucked the drive into Astrid’s bag and settled into one of the cushy chairs in Amin’s office with a spellbook on her lap when he and Astrid returned with a pot of tea and a basket of fresh pastries.

  Amin looked positively delighted, his salt and pepper mustache wiggling with excitement. “I would very much like to study this creature if you’re able to contain it.”

  “Of course. It could be an unknown species. It should be documented.”

  “Exactly.” Amin set the tea on the desk. They both ignored Bri.

  “You could get credit for naming it.”

  Bri rolled her eyes. Laying it on kinda thick, Edgewood.

  “No, no!” he puffed out his chest. “It could only be named by you my dear, if you catch the little bastard.”

  Astrid grinned. “That’s exactly what I named my IPA—Hoppy Little Bastard—after the gremlin.”

  “I’ll have to come try it!” he said, handing Astrid a cup of tea.

  “I’ll send you a case!”

  And so the next ten minutes went on as they sipped and snacked, and were finally off to the library, leaving Bri in peace.

  She got up and made herself a cup of tea and nabbed a blueberry scone. For all its faults, the Arcanum did have surprisingly delicious food. She wanted to visit Kean before she left, but Astrid would probably keep Amin busy for a couple of hours, so there was no need to rush.

  She rifled through the cabinets and bookshelves searching for any titles she could take on her journey. Might as well get some practice stealing books, right? The Barriers Between Realms and Spirit Summoning volumes I and II sounded promising, so she tucked them under her arm.