Page 58 of Devoted

With dust motes dancing wildly in our wake, we’d reached the center of the room when blinding light exploded through the chamber. All around us, thousands of candles blazed to life, as if they’d been lit at once by an invisible hand.

At our feet, ancient runes ignited in midnight black stone, magic glowing like the floor caught fire, racing round and round…

Forming a perfect circle.

“Go. Move,” I shoved Emberline toward the edge of the circle, shoved her toward safety. But a wall of power slammed into us first, shimmering barriers surging upwards to the ceiling, their magic ancient and unbreakable.

A containment field.

“Shit,” Ember cursed, reaching out her fingers to touch the glowing magic. I snatched her hand back.

“We don’t know what this is or what it does. Until we do, stay behind me and don’t touch anything.” I was debating the odds that Emilia had betrayed us when out of the silence a slow, mocking clap echoed from the darkness.

Once.

Twice.

Three times.

My blood turned to ice as—impossibly—a familiar figure materialized, striding confidently toward us as if he belonged in this place, a figment of my worst nightmares made real.

Tall and elegant, dressed in a fitted waistcoat and an immaculately tailored jacket, dark hair slicked back from his regal face and that permanently cold smile on his lips, Lord Blackwood could not have been more amused at our predicament.

“As always, Niccolò,”—he drifted closer, malice and approval glittering in his silver eyes—“you continue to surprise me.”

I stepped in front of Emberline, weaving a shield of shadows around us. Blackwood just chuckled, a low, delighted sound; he knew how inferior my magic was against his.

“I must say, I didn’t think you had it in you to break my spell. While that was a fine piece of work, surely you don’t expect Emilia DiSange to change the balance of power.” He tilted his head, eyes gleaming like liquid mercury. “I can see that you do. I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised.

“But then, you always were so predictably short-sighted… son.”

20

EMBERLINE

Son.

Son?

That word slithered through my head like a serpent, leaving a trail of slime behind, coating everything I knew about Nico with poison. Blackwood.

Nico Blackwood.

No. That… can’t be right.

I looked at Nico, jaw set like stone, hand banded around my arm to protect me, eyes flashing with anger and something far, far worse—recognition.

This is only a dream. Only a dream.

None of this is real.

But the word echoed louder as Cesare Blackwood stepped into the light. The ancient temple came alive as he claimed the abandoned space, power thrumming around him in pounding, nauseating waves.

The towering columns trembled, the containment circle glowed brighter. The circle I’d always made it a point to step around, sensing the threat, every time I’d been inside this place.

I wanted to groan out loud.

The circle my own mother warned me about.