War Weaving? Did one of these books hold the secret to unlocking her powers?
She looked up at him. “Where did you get all this?”
“Under King James’s patronage, I was finally able to indulge my passion for the esoteric without fear of retribution.” Absently, he ran one hand over the burn scar down his face. “Through my studies I mastered powers that have mostly been forgotten, powers the like of which I’d never imagined. Yet, I’m not arrogant enough to think that I hold real power. I know a few tricks but the real power lies with those born to it. To the MacFinnan spellweavers.”
He reached into the satchel and pulled out a thick book. Its cover bore the symbol of a knot: three interlocking spirals made of thread.
He held the book towards her. “Yer ancestors were artisans of battle. They were strategists, generals, protectors. Ye are likethem. Ye are powerful, Elise. But undisciplined. Untrained. With guidance, ye could be truly formidable.”
“Guided by you, you mean?”
“Who better? I’ve dedicated my life to this knowledge. I can give ye mastery over yer power. No more losing control. No more unpredictable surges. Ye could shape shields that span armies. Weapons to unmake magic itself.”
She would love to finally learn to control her power. To finally understand her purpose. To live up to the mighty legacy of the MacFinnan spellweavers.
But not at any cost.
“You think I’d help you terrorize the Isles? You’re crazy.”
He didn’t flinch. “I want ye tosavethe Isles. Ye care about innocent people, do ye not? Those are the people who will be slaughtered when Ulster comes to call.” In a lower, more dangerous tone, he added, “And ye care about Jamie’s men who will die here, today, if ye refuse me.”
He nodded towards the courtyard, and Elise’s stomach twisted with dread. “Only cowards threaten innocent people.”
“Only cowards refuse to take power when it’s offered to them,” he countered. “Let me teach ye. Let me help ye. And let ye help others in turn. What else is yer magic for if not for that?”
She had to hand it to him—he knew exactly the right things to say to get to her. His words were smooth and persuasive. All she’d ever wanted to do was use her magic to help others. Learning War Weaving would make her strong enough to protect people. Strong enough to protect Jamie and those she loved.
But learning it from him? She was not the gullible fool he seemed to think she was. He would help her, would he? Sure. Just as long as she did exactly what he and his puppet-master wanted. Just as long as she became their pet monster, murdering their enemies and bringing them power.
“I won’t be your weapon,” she said.
“Ye dinna have to make the decision now.” His tone was soft, coaxing. Dangerously reasonable. “I’m a patient man and I’ll give ye time to think.” He climbed to his feet and walked to the door. He knocked, and two of the king’s guards stepped inside. “Escort Lady MacFinnan to her chamber. She isnae our prisoner, but our guest. Ensure she has everything she needs.”
Elise didn’t resist as the guards pulled her to her feet and led her out of the room. She glanced over her shoulder. Phillip stood with his back to her, staring out of the window with his hands clasped behind his back.
How far would he go to make her do what he wanted?
*
Elise paced upand down in front of the window, muttering every curse and swear word she’d ever learned. It didn’t help. She was so angry she could spit blood, and so frustrated she felt she could tear her hair out by the roots.
She was furious that she’d fallen into Phillip’s trap. How could she have been so stupid?
Because you did what you always do!she answered herself bitterly.You jumped in without thinking things through first. Jump in. Ask questions later. Story of your life.
She glared at the closed door of her room for about the hundredth time. It wasn’t even locked. Phillip knew she wouldn’t try to escape. If she did, Albie and the others would pay the price.
She reached the wall and whirled, pacing back the other way. Phillip had been gracious enough to give back her old room rather than throw her in a dungeon.
Gracious? Ha! That was a joke! If he thought this minor kindness would soften her heart towards him, he had anotherthink coming! She felt her power raging up inside her, a hot tempest of fury that howled for release. It took an effort to restrain it, like holding onto the bridle of an unruly horse.
Yet, restrain it she must. If she lost control now, it wouldn’t be Phillip but the people of Dun Arach who paid the price.
Behind her, the door handle rattled, and she turned as the door was pushed open.
“I told you I’m not going to help you, you lying, sneaking, sniveling bastard!” she yelled. “If you think for one minute—”
But it wasn’t Phillip coming into her room. It was Andrea.
