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Only with the Star could his Mistress fulfill her own destiny.
Only with the Star could she break his curse.
Only with the Star could he finally be free.
Only then could he finally be whole.
Chapter Six
The outside of Ember Hall had looked old and neglected. The inside was a vastly different story. Gwendolyn stopped short just inside the terrace doors and leaned back to look at the outside again, clearly struggling to rationalize the overwhelming disparity.
“It’s a spell,” Sirus explained from behind her.
“Right,” she breathed, not seeming in any way comforted by the comment.
Levian’s spell work had always been impressive, but Sirus had to admit she had outdone herself. The last he’d visited Ember Hall, it had been stuffy and outdated in Victorian fashions. Now it was full of marble and modern furniture. Neutral soft green wallpaper featuring a menagerie of woodland creatures surrounded the small foyer off the garden. A large unfinished wood table sat in the middle, topped with a spray of grasses and vibrant blue irises. Above it hung a strange chandelier covered in bits of shell, aqua-colored crystals, and sea glass. Gwendolyn stared up at it in awe.
Sirus watched her like a hawk would a mouse. A mouse that did not seem to recognize his stark attentions in the slightest. He’d not appreciated Barith’s quick exit in the garden and being forced to deal with her emotional unraveling, but she’d coped surprisingly well. For a moment, he’d thought she might pass out in her panic and he’d be forced to carry her inside. At least he’d been saved that trouble. Not that it would have been much. Gwendolyn was quite lithe.
He watched her stare up at the chandelier, trying to deduce what object of power she could possibly possess. Perhaps she was cursed? Or bewitched? Her neck was long and stretched in her observation. That line of freckles in full view. He lingered on them. Wondered what they might taste like.
Sirus held in the snarl of frustration that threatened, annoyed that such a base thought would rise up in him so freely. It had been too long since he’d eaten.
Levian appeared from the hall on the other side of the entry, now dressed in a flowing forest green dress. “It’s lovely, isn’t it?” she remarked, following Gwendolyn’s gaze upward.
“It’s—beautiful.”
“A gift from an old lover I’ve never quite been able to part with,” the mage told her with a wistful sigh. “Pirates could be shockingly sentimental.”
“Especially the ones mad with scurvy,” Barith added sharply, coming up the hall behind Levian. His wings were gone, but his tail still bobbed at his backside. The mage’s eyes flared with annoyance, cutting him with a sharp glare over her shoulder.
“Is it—magick? The house?” Gwendolyn asked nervously.
Levian happily shifted her attention away from Barith, her look of annoyance morphing into a warm and seemingly genuine smile. Sirus watched the mage closely too. They’d not been expecting company, and he did not appreciate surprises. Despite her reasons for being here—not that she’d given any—he was not yet sure Levian could be trusted.
“It’s just a little enchantment I cooked up some years ago,” Levian told her. “One doesn’t become a renowned mage without a bit of flourish, after all,” she added with a little wink.
“Infamous, more like,” Barith grumbled. “This is my house, and I don’t want your shriveled old salt dog’s ugly arse gift hanging in my halls.”
The mage’s smile teetered but she pushed on, ignoring the dragon entirely. “I learned a long time ago that if I desired comfort when I traveled, I would have to manage it myself,” she went on. “Accommodations rarely satisfy my needs.”
“Ha!” Barith barked. “Nothing ever satisfies you.”
Gwendolyn shifted nervously. Sirus was beyond used to this kind of exchange between the mage and the dragon. He was merely waiting for it to run its course.
Levian’s expression shuttered at Barith’s scathing declaration. She cleaned some imaginary dirt from beneath her long purple nails. “Too true,” she drawled darkly. “I do have incredibly high standards. From where I lay my head to the company I keep. It’s a shame so many creatures prove disappointing. If only I could be as satisfied by everything as you are, Barith.” She turned to face the dragon and added in a voice of pure venomous silk, “Alas, rutting with the pigs is not something I imagine will ever bring me pleasure.”
The dragon’s brows furrowed in confusion for a moment, then shifted down in anger as her words soaked in. He leaned in to snarl something, but Levian had already turned back to Sirus, her long braids swirling over her shoulder, scraping over Barith’s puffed out chest. The dragon fisted his hands at his sides, glaring daggers at the back of her head. No one could ever rile him up like Levian.
“I suppose you’re exhausted.” The mage pivoted, clearly speaking to Gwendolyn. She slid to their side of the table.
Sirus glanced up at Barith, drawing the dragon’s glare. He made it clear without saying a word: he wanted a moment with Levian. Alone.
Before Gwendolyn could respond to the mage, Barith cut in, “How’re you doing there, Gweny?” He was suddenly all smiles and pleasantries again.
“Fine,” she grumbled at first before shaking it off. “Actually, no. I’m not fine. I really wish someone would tell me what the hell is going on.”
The dragon smirked. “It’s been a bit of a night for you, hasn’t it?”
