“How does she know about them?” I asked. “I’ve spent years trying to find out more.”
“Because she’s obsessed with Umbryth.” She offered me a weak smile. “It’s good to have a name for it. Vina referred to it as the Realm of Magic. She was determined to learn everything about the draveths and Umbryth. I don’t know how she acquired any of the information. I suspect she doesn’t know that the draveths had been exiled. That would only increase her interest in them, and you. She’d need to know why someone with so much magic was exiled and hunting you.”
Her frown deepened. “You’re such an anomaly. But that happens sometimes.” She busied herself with raveling strands of her hair around her finger. Her eyes had drifted to the window, and she appeared to be having a conversation with herself. “Initially I thought she was worried about me being around you so much, but of course that wouldn’t be the case.” She batted away more tears. Her protective response was an attempt at being indifferent to the idea that her mother loved magic more than her.
She was hurting, and I wanted to wrap her in a hug, although any affection would pale in comparison to that of a mother.
“I’m nearly certain the curse was my mother’s work.”
Amelia’s emotions and thoughts about her mother were as myriad and complex as mine. Her mother’s lust for more power had nearly killed her and was intended to kill me. Pressing my balled hands in my lap to keep myself from hugging her, I gave her space to process her emotions.
Tears streamed down her face as she became increasingly flustered. I placed my hands over hers. She stared at them for a long time, her breaths short and ragged. Her tears dropped onto my hands. Brushing her hands over her face, she looked up.
“We can’t let Jonah meet Vina,” she said.
“What?”
“He has access to draveths. We need to make sure that Vina’s and his house of misfits’ paths never cross.” She looked as lost as I felt on how to prevent that happening. Frowning, she continued. “Vina has her own acolytes.” Her eyes rolled. “Excommunicated witches. From what I gathered, the contempt she has for them makes her uncomfortable sharing knowledge. She simultaneously loathes and needs them. The foundation of her power lust is adulation. She wants to be worshipped like a god by people she considers worthy.” She scoffed. “She couldn’t even reach the heights of being Archanist. The way she acquiredher power and magic would never earn her the respect, or even a cursory appreciation, of other covens’ Archanists.”
I agreed that Vina and Jonah should never meet. But I had no idea how to prevent it. The magical community was too small, and their similar desire for more power and the exploration of the depths of their magic was too great. Eventually they’d find each other, and the damage they could cause was unimaginable.
Sucking in a ragged breath, Amelia relaxed into the exhale, letting go of whatever emotions held her tethered to her mother.
“I know whoever she used to carry that curse was one of Vina’s followers. I’m not sure if it was the same person who attacked you and Terran, but I think it’s safe to believe it was her handiwork as well. You were the target.”
“The auditory spell,” I pointed out. “That’s why I believe Jonah’s involved.”
“That’s not an unknown spell. Because of its fragility, it’s difficult to execute. It requires strong magic and skill— That’s it. Skill and magic like Vina’s.”
I heard the catch in her voice, and anger flared in me. Did Vina know that Amelia was the casualty of the curse yet did nothing to help? Studying Amelia’s flat expression, I couldn’t determine if she’d come to the same conclusion.
Amelia’s mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water. Lost for the right way to ask, which meant she was thinking about ashinwas.
“Apparently ashinwas are magical badasses. They abused their magic and aren’t good people.”
Jonah, Vina, and me: a trio with diablerie magic abilities, morally flexible, or both.
“Magic doesn’t corrupt. It’s how people view themselves when they have it. It corrupts people like Vina but if—whenyou get your magic, you won’t be like that.”
I hoped she was right. As much as I wanted to share everything with her, I withheld how much I was drawn to Cirrian’s darkness. His ominous aura of death had an eerie hold on me. Or was it Cirrian who had the hold on me?
“Stop thinking about the God of Death,” she scolded, then took a long drink from her glass. I followed suit, attempting to ignore her comment.
“Whenever you mention him, you always look the way a lion looks at a gazelle.”
“Between the two of us, I’m not the predator.”
“Are you sure? When you go through Spellrend, you very well might be.” Her gaze dropped to my arm where I’d told her the mark was, although it hadn’t made a reappearance no matter how hard I willed it.
She’d brought up what I had considered before: what made ashinwas so important to Cirrian and how did they differ from the draveths to make it beneficial? Was it the differences or similarities to draveth magic that made me useful? Or was mine one of the few magics more powerful than that of the draveths?
“Why did he break their rules to save me?” There was speculation and a hint of accusation in her voice. Like I was hiding a relationship. “He didn’t have to. You’re oath bound to help him no matter how my situation ended.”
“He didn’t believe I’d be of any use if you died.”
“Perhaps.” She wasn’t entirely convinced. “And what does it say about your magic that a deity needs it?”
Magically gifted and a powerful witch in her own right, Amelia looked awestruck.
