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He wanted to limit knowledge of what, exactly, the wraith had stolen from him. The few specialists who had seen him—under threat of death if they so much as breathed information into the wrong ear—couldn’t say whether his loss of magic would be temporary or permanent. Only time would tell.
I hadn’t exactly wanted to go to the hospital myself, but mainly because I’d have to deal with the whole “could you be pregnant” thing before they treated my wounds and rat bites. And of course, I hadn’t done the test. Wouldn’t do the test, not until all the dust had settled, not just with my dad, but also the court case.
Thankfully, there was no indication that the wraith’s leech link had done any damage to the overall pool of inner wild magic. Mom had carefully extracted it, given both me and Belle a royal dressing down for forcing our will on her, and had made us promise never to do something like that again.
Rodrika never recovered from her wounds, but at least in the end she had died without pain.
I pressed the doorbell and listened to the somber chime inside. After a few seconds, footsteps echoed. Mom rather than the staff. Apparently, Dad had sent most of them on holidays until he “recovered,” though none of them were witches and wouldn’t have known what exactly had been done to him.
Mom opened the door, her gaze quickly scanning me as she stepped back and waved me in. “You recovered quickly.”
“I tend to these days.” I shrugged off my coat, then walked over to the coat closet to hang it up—an automatic response left over from childhood. “How is he?”
She sighed. “Unpleasant. I really don’t think it’s wise for you to be confronting him right now.”
“Mom, he can’t hurt me. Not now, not ever again. Besides, there will never be a perfect time when it comes to that man.”
She sighed again. “True enough. You remember the way?”
I smiled. “Yeah.”
She hesitated. “Would you like a cup of tea before you go?”
“That would be lovely, thank you.”
She smiled, touched my shoulder lightly, as if to wish me luck, then motioned me to continue.
I walked up the sweeping stairs and then down the hall to the study. The transport void had been dismantled, though an odd dark energy clung to the doorframe. It was obviously harmless, otherwise it would have been removed, but I nevertheless tugged my sleeve over my hand before I knocked on the door.
“Who is it?” came the sharp response.
“Elizabeth.”
“I have no desire to speak to you—”
“Well, too bad, because you’re going to, and you can’t do anything about it.”
The door was locked, but a quick spell fixed that. Dad was halfway to the door but stopped abruptly when I entered.
He didn’t say anything. He just scowled, spun on his heels, and strode back behind the desk. He didn’t sit, however. He simply pressed his hands against its edge and leaned forward a little. It was a pose meant to be intimidating—one that certainly had intimidated a younger me.
Not now. Not ever again.
“We have nothing to discuss,” he said, his voice showing none of the bitter fury that burned around him. “Indeed, you should not even be here, given no decision has been handed down by the high council.”
“You’re very welcome to lodge an official complaint. I don’t really care.”
The anger deepened and, just for a moment, his knuckles went white. My father had never been one to resort to physical violence, but right now he was tempted.
I smiled benignly, part of me hoping that he did lash out. It would be mighty satisfying to rebuff his punch and then send him flying.
But I wouldn’t go down that road, as tempting as it was. Right now, I had the moral high ground, and I wanted to keep it.
“Are you here to gloat?” he asked urbanely. “Or to get a thank you? Because that will never happen. You might have saved my life, but I would rather have died than pay this price.”
“Letting you die was certainly an option for me, and I’m sure Mom would have appreciated being handed total control over the family business. Sadly, she did not want you dead quite enough—though I daresay she’ll get there quickly if you keep up the woe-is-me shit.”
His gaze narrowed. “What do you want, Elizabeth?”
