He scoffed at this as if saying I had nothing to worry about. “Your magic would easily secure your survival in a war, or at the very least, provide you with a convenient escape. It must be tedious, feigning inferiority to vampires when you could easily impose their good behavior with the threat of destruction. I applaud your restraint.” He chuckled. “And your bravery. If your little protector ever found out what you truly are, I doubt you’d still be alive for this conversation.”
“Because I can reanimate vampires?” I asked.
His brows drew together at my made-up description of what happened when I saved Raynard. “Why did you feed him toreanimatewhen you could just use your magic to perform ada vitamspell?”
“Da vitam?”I echoed.
Answering the confusion I no doubt showed, the unsettled look remained etched on his face. “It’s quite a misnomer for what your magic actually does. You kill them.”
I’d clearly misheard him.
“I dowhat?”
True death was always an option with vampires, but Cirrian’s description seemed more involved.
“You can return life to a vampire. Real life. Human life. They breathe, have a heartbeat, and age for as long as they are bound to you with magic. It’s your magic that keeps them alive. That connection gives you control over them, similar to vampire compulsion. They are victims of your will. Unfortunately, the binding siphons off your magic, making you weaker. Your kind do not appreciate weakness in magic, despite the benefit of controlling the re-humaned vampire. The connection is short lived.”
“Which kills them,” I concluded. A chill ran down my spine. I was right to keep that information to myself. Even if I didn’t have access to the magic or working knowledge of the spell that returned them to normal—vampire normal. There had to be a time limit or an accompanying spell that maintained the connection to allow for a human existence, because Raynard went right back to being a vampire.
If they knew this about me, the vampires would definitely want me dead. Who’d want someone around who could destroy them so easily?
He studied me for a moment, his gaze penetrating. “Ignorance doesn’t exempt you from the consequences.”
I wasn’t under any illusion that it would.
He sank deeper into the couch, his arms stretched out as he gave me an appraising look. “You confuse me, Kara.”
“In what way?”
“You have such little knowledge of your abilities. There are so few of you that great care is taken to ensure you know all your abilities, agreements, and restrictions—and ways to negotiate them to your benefit so you can effectively pass the Spellrend.” He made a face of derision. “Lineage magic has a flair for theatrics but is warranted. Perhaps limiting your knowledge of how deleterious your magic is would decrease your use of it and increase your chances of passing the Spellrend. Your kind has never been that considerate in the past. Could your dwindling numbers be the root of this new civility?”
Watching his arrogance be replaced with sheer confusion was unsettling.
Tossing aside the advantage of hiding my ignorance of ashinwa magic, because I needed answers, I announced, “I don’t know what any of that is. Ashinwa witch? The Spellrend?”
He stood. “Witch?” He chuckled. “How deceptive of you to liken a black mamba to a garden snake. Is it to convince you or me?”
Got it. Ashinwas are dangerous. But I didn’t like the comparison. How about a cat to an ocelot?
He searched my face for answers that he obviously didn’t get. “How are you unaware of the Spellrend?” He cursed under his breath, his face a canvas of turbulent emotions. “Because you haven’t gone through it.” He made a sound that settled between a grunt and a scoff. “You’re not hiding your abilities. You don’t have them. You’re magicless.”
Disappointment washed over his features and his deep eyes lost their spark of intrigue. Suffocating silence lingered between us. Disgust moved over his entire face, clearly directed at himself. “I was mistaken. You can’t help me.”
His expression held the same confused disappointment I’d seen in Jamillah when she speculated about not discovering me. But his didn’t hold the same notes. Hers felt like she missed outon a kindred link, whereas his was like he’d missed an important flight by ten minutes.
“I recall the oath,” he said, standing before breezing past me with purpose. I knew his destination. Amelia.
He looked down at the tight hold my hand had on his arm. My nails dug into his skin. “Kara, you are released from your oath and absolved of your obligations. We are done here.”
He pulled away. His hand stilled just an inch from my face as if he was waiting for something? Permission to touch? Or could he determine magic from touching the air surrounding a person? I had no clue, but I moved closer, allowing his fingers to trace over the curve of my jawline. Prickling warmth slithered over my skin.
The heat radiating off him would have been comforting if the situation wasn’t so dire. In any other situation, I would appreciate the intensity of his gaze, despite him looking at me the way someone would a unique specimen.
“It’s cruel for you to unilaterally break our agreement,” I said, his touch becoming feather light.
His eyes slowly roved over my face until they reached my eyes. “Isn’t releasing you from your oath an act of kindness?”
“Do you know what words mean? How is it kind to deny me the chance to save my best friend’s life?” I fired back. He wasn’t just a masochist who “appreciated” pain, but a god with the inability to distinguish between kindness and cruelty.
