“In what way?” Sayier asked, her voice too even for it to be sincere.
Meeting her stare, I said, “There don’t seem to be any easy exits.” My gaze bounced between the women who blocked my way to the door on the other side of the room. And even if I managed to get past them, it was unlikely I could easily return home.
Silence stretched. The heavy tension was like fingers closing around a throat. And the ominous coiling magic added to my unease. It wasn’t intentional, but it paralleled Cirrian’s magic. Ever-present with an underlying darkness.
Nahela glanced at Sayier, then back to me. “This isn’t a prison,” she said gently.
I looked once more at the mountains. At the endless trees. At the absence of choice carved into the landscape.
“Then,” I said, “you should tell it to stop feeling like one.” My smile was just as insincere and forced as theirs.
“It’s a sanctuary,” Sayier provided.
So we’re past the niceties and straight to the lying part.
Taking a breezy look around the room, I noted the massive bed covered with white satin sheets and a fluffy duvet that looked like piled clouds, disturbed from when I got up. The piles of fabric and rumpled sheets indicated a restless sleep. A water pitcher and glass were on the bedside table. The fluffy robe on the velvet-covered bench at the end of the bed was presumably to add to the illusion of a sanctuary. A place of refuge and reprieve.
Midnight-blue wallpaper had hints of iron gray and deep green, creating a subtle topography of peaks and valleys that shifted depending on where you stood. I assumed the ajar door led to a bathroom.
“How long have I been asleep?”
“A little over a day. The same amount of time my brother has been locked in his prison,” Sayier’s tight voice provided. She’d abandoned all efforts at pleasantries.
Casually walking around the room, I took in the space that I suspected would be my own prison until I found a way to escape.
Sayier’s eyes followed me relentlessly, her head tilted, looking for something she apparently couldn’t find.
“Cirrian was scheduled to address the Bavelon today,” she said. “His request for the stay was granted. It is doubtful he can present anything that will shield him from punishment.” Sorrow and helplessness momentarily replaced her anger before she blinked it away. Her eyes fell on my binding mark that was flashing like a beacon. Even when I crossed my arms to conceal it, Sayier couldn’t seem to pull her eyes from it.
After a long silence, she lifted them to meet mine. “No amount of stays will prevent the inevitable. His death. And when he dies, I will make sure you do as well,” she pushed out through clenched teeth.
“You can’t be killed,” I blurted, my voice too tremulous to show confidence. I tried to make sense of her words. I assumed the Bavelon were people who held the shadow gods accountable to the rules, rules that Cirrian broke like they were optional.
“Youcan’t kill us. We can die, and since you foolishly bound yourself to him, so will you. And if by chance he is kind enough to unbind you before his death, know that I will carry out that sentence.” She devoured the space between us; the few inches of height she had on me wouldn’t have been intimidating if not for the reddish tint rage had placed on her face. Her fury stifled the room, and I watched her struggle to rein in the emotion.
Shuffling back, she took several breaths, looking to Nahela as if she needed her calm to anchor her. Then she looked back at me.
“Kara, help me save my brother’s life.”
Her desperation fueled mine. I didn’t want Cirrian to die.
“Who are you?” she added. It felt more like an accusation than a question.
I rattled off my credentials, being far more forthcoming than I wanted. It was a purge as I attempted to make sense of things. “Takara Bennett. I worked as a liaison for the Houses of Hollows and Night until my services were discontinued.”
“You were fired.”
I nodded, earning me a look of scorn.
“Why?”
“They discovered I was hiding my ability to performda vitam,” I admitted.
“You’re an ashinwa?”
“Yeah. Cirrian discovered it. And prior to you hosting me as your…guest.” I was being far more diplomatic than the situation deserved. “He’s just informed me that neither one of my parents was ashinwa.”Parents.I thought it would ring hollow, but it didn’t. I couldn’t refer to them as anything else. They’d raised me, loved me, and despite the dishonesty, they were my parents. “In fact, they were barely witches, with magic so inconsequential I have no idea how the protective spell I had on me prevented a draveth’s attack a few years ago.”
“How did it protect you?” Nahela asked.
