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“You, Adelaide.” Shadow leaped from her arms and came to mine, doing the same thing.
“What?” She gasped. “Shadow, that is Druella, and I am Adelaide.”
The cat looked between us both once and then a second time before it moved to the middle of the bed, unsure which one of us was her master.
&
nbsp; “Shadow, I am Druella. Not Adelaide,” I told it. The cat looked again before vanishing. When it reappeared again, it was in Adelaide’s lap like before.
“And it is gone again,” Atarah spoke up.
“Only for us,” Arsiein stated, eyeing both of us carefully. “The witch does not have enough magic to make it visible to us. Druella did when the cat recognized Druella as her master. Now it doesn’t recognize her, and it has gone back to how it was. Interesting. So has she passed your test now?”
Adelaide stared at me, astonished and nearly dumbstruck. “What in the hell are you? It is crazy to think a vampire could still do magic, but this type of magic? Rarely can any witch ever do this with such ease. It is like you are boundless?”
“Don’t know what that means, either. But I’m glad you believe me now. What next?” I questioned.
“A boundless witch does not need spells—not important right now.” She shook the explanation off as a smile appeared on her lips. “Next, we save Jason.”
“That is not possible,” Arsiein said, rising from his seat as he stepped closer to her bed, and she backed away slightly. “Your lover was charged, tried, and convicted by President Waban Swan. There is no saving him.”
“If she can do this type of magic, she can summon his body here. It won’t take—”
“You are not understanding, witch,” he snapped at her. “The issue isn’t whether or not she can or cannot use magic to bring him. The issue is, we have no right to interfere with the governance of any other vampire nation. President Swan can do whatever he likes with his vampires.”
“They are torturing him!” she hollered. “You—I can’t just sit here and let it happen.”
“Nor can you command us to interfere. That is all but a declaration of war. You both entered this affair of your own accord. You should have known the consequence of it. Your love is not worth a vampire war. It is not even worth an argument.”
Her hands balled into fists, and her teeth clenched down so hard I could hear them grinding upon each other. When her head snapped up and back to me, her eyes narrowed.
“I felt and saw your magic, so I forgot who I was talking to,” she sneered bitterly. “I saw it in Jason’s mind. You were the one who broke my spell and exposed him at the trial. Of course, you wouldn’t help me. It’s only us against the rest of you. Fine. Free my magic, and I will go by myself and do it.”
“I don’t know how—”
“Just do it!”
“I thought this wasn’t a Nike commercial,” I shot back. “I tried. When I try to undo the spell, nothing happens. I said spells that didn’t work. I tried yanking at the ties of the witch in my mind, but my hands are burned, and I’m pushed back.”
“How is that possible!” She ran her hands through her hair. She was frustrated, as if I weren’t doing my best to be patient and understand everything that I thought was impossible become possible.
“You are a witch in bed with an invisible cat, surrounded by vampires. Don’t you think it’s time to expand what you know is possible?” I replied.
“Just because magic exists does not mean there are no rules. There is balance and—”
“Before you two get into another argument, I do wish to continue my questions,” Arsiein interrupted, drawing our attention back to him as he stood beside her bed.
“I said I would answer your questions if she released my magic. But she doesn’t even know how, so I don’t care—”
“And how do you suppose to get out of here?” The threat in his voice was so clear that Shadow stood up on all fours, hissing at him, not that Arsiein could see it or cared. “You have already told us your magic is weak. If you try to use any more fighting to leave, you may break the connection to your lover. Or my father will break it for you. You are not in a position to refuse my questions.”
Her head hung as she knew it, too. “So I am a prisoner here.”
“You came here on your own,” Atarah said, going to the door. “We will not hurt you unless you try to hurt us.”
“But I can’t leave. Isn’t that a prisoner?” Adelaide asked, and she was right.
“It is. But from your wounds. I must ask, would you prefer we leave you out in the open?” Atarah questioned, and when she opened the door, Pelopia stood with a tray of human food. Milk, bread, fruits, and pancakes. The smell of which made Adelaide’s stomach grumble loudly. “You’ve been on the run from the witches. When was the last time you had a proper meal?”
