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My breath caught as he popped open the case. He lifted out the wand with a grin that was maybe over-wide now. The gems embedded in the wood flashed with more than just the reflection from the crystal chandelier overhead.
An awed murmur passed through the crowd of guests. Killian leaned close. “Thatisa spectacular piece. Your father didn’t mention he’d obtained something like that.”
Because he’d been too busy selling me into magical slavery, presumably. I shot my supposed consort-to-be a quick smile, honestly grateful for the opportunity to add to my groundwork. “You’ll have to ask him to let you have a closer look later. Although he hasn’t letanyonetouch it since he brought it home.” I let out a giggle intended to sound a little nervous. “He snapped at me when I picked it up in his office right after he got back.”
The last word was only just dropping from my lips when other breaths caught all around the table. The second part of my spell was bearing fruit.
In a literal sense. As Dad held up the wand, a glimmering image of a tree sprouted up from its tip. It grew up toward the high ceiling and out. The filmy, glowing branches arched over the dining table, glittering apples and pears forming at their tips, as if beckoning the guests to take them. Eddies of wild magic whirled around the room, tracing spirals of sparkles in the air.
The server who’d just walked back in dropped his plate with a crash. He stood stock still, staring. The guests near him jerked around. A few people gasped. One man leapt to his feet.
“Maxim, that’s enough. Think of thecompany.”
He jerked his gaze toward that server and the other who was gaping motionless on the other side of the room.
But Dad’s face was lit with a hungry glow.More, my spell would be whispering to him on a level below sound, below thought.Look what you’ve created. You have to see more. Can’t they all see how beautiful this is?
“Dad,” I said, as if to try to stop him myself. Mr. Frankford, at his other side, sprang up and grasped his hand.
Physical contact was the trigger for my spell to shift again. Anger contorted Dad’s face as his friend tried to wrench the wand away from him.
“No!” he shouted. “It’s mine. You will all bow down!”
He lashed his arm, and the tree’s branches fragmented into blazing vines. They streaked through the air, darting in every direction, searing lines of fire rippling all down their lengths and casting a wavering reddish glow over the room. With a hiss and a crackle, the vines smacked into the witching folk who’d started to get up all around the table, into Frankford and his wife, knocking them to the floor.
I hadn’t realized just how terrifying the scene would be in real life. A shriek I didn’t have to force burst from my throat as I ducked beside the table. Never mind Jin’s artworks—the spell I’d cast already was plenty powerful on its own.
Heat filled the air. A sweat that was both temperature and fear broke over my skin. Frankford was lying on the floor by Dad’s other side, clutching at his neck. One of the flaming vines had wrapped around his throat, searing the skin with a burning-flesh smell that made my stomach turn. The veins stood out in his temples as he thrashed.
All that power was mine. And I’d thought I was holding back.
Someone cried out on the other side of the table. There was a thump and the crackle of smashing glass. The remaining vines whipped through the air overhead, seeking more targets.
Over it all Dad was still hollering in a now-ragged voice. “You think you can hurt me? I’ll show you what you get for that. Don’t you dare try to cut me down!”
The words barely made sense. But his magic- and fury-addled mind would be seeing the figures around the table lunging at him with spells and weapons. My spell would be telling him he was only defending himself in the moment.
Someone had to stop him. Please, soon. This was enough. But I couldn’t be the one to end the spell.
I flinched as a vine blazed past me, even though I knew they were magicked to avoid hurting me. Then a voice charged with power rang out from the end of the room.
“That’s enough!”
A wave of magic swept over us, crashing through the vines and throwing me against the floor. My tailbone jarred. In the wake of the new spell, everything was silent except Dad’s frantic babbling.
“No. No. It’s gone. It can’t be gone. I swear, you come into my home and you—”
Hands clapped together. His mouth clamped shut. I peeked out from under the table, my legs shaky, to see one of the older witches standing at the far end of the table. Her power radiated off her as she stared down my dad.
“Someone call the Assembly,” she said. “And anyone who can, help me see to the wounded. And get the staff out of here!”
Dad dropped down in his chair, his arms stiff at his sides, his expression rigid. She’d cast another spell on him, one meant to hold him in place, clearly.
Despite everything, my heart wrenched as I got to my feet, taking a step back from him at the same time.
The magicI’dcast would be crumbling away like that burnt belladonna. In a matter of seconds, no shred would remain but the memories that would seem perfectly real in his mind and the actually real memories of all these witnesses. I’d left no chance for anyone to realize that his breakdown had been provoked by an external source. Even the wand, still clutched in his hand, was completely hollow of power now.
Voices carried all around me. People hustled past me to see to Frankford and his wife, the other fallen witching folk with their burns and bruises. Someone—probably Killian—let out a groan of pain behind me. I could only look at Dad.
