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“I met Allorin on several occasions growing up. He was rude to me, but he scared me, so I always did as he asked.”
“The mage enjoys inducing fear in those around him. He believes this instills loyalty and obedience. He doesn’t understand that true loyalty can only be obtained through love.”
She paused. “You’re right. I did what he asked. It wasn’t much back then. Fetch him a drink or tell Devlin he was there to speak with him, but I felt like everything was a test.”
“It was. Had you disobeyed, he would have crushed your mind. He knew who you were, yet he allowed Devlin to keep you whole. It was a risk and one I am wary of.”
“Why would you say that?” Surely, he didn’t mean she should have been controlled by the mage.
“Allorin is a devious prick, but he is intelligent. He hasn’t survived for thousands of years because he lacks intelligence. He made male after male believe they were his protégé and he did love them in a way, or the spell would not have worked.”
“He must be pissed at Jemma.”
“I suspect he was at the end, despite her confining him to this body.”
“I don’t understand. If it worked for two thousand years, why not continue? Not that I condone his actions. Was the spell wearing off?” she asked.
“For the spell to work, Allorin must love his protégé. The person he sacrifices to usurp their body. I believe he has lost the ability to love. Every sacrifice takes a toll, and he lacks the ability to feel that emotion.”
Tempest moved to another shelf with stacks of ancient scrolls. “I am surprised these aren’t in some kind of protective chamber. I thought museums were more careful with their artifacts. Devlin went to great lengths to procure them.”
“This entire warehouse is spelled. I deactivated the wards that would alert Allorin to our presence, but the spell to keep the items in stasis while inside the building is intact.”
“I should have known, but why collect all this? The gallery is just a front to import the items they want. What are the rest for?”
“While the darks need to have a legitimate human business, Devlin considered himself an artist. He wasn’t very good and the self-portraits he painted were crude and lacking imagination.”
Tempest paused. “Mara said he had several nude portraits in our mansion. Did he paint them himself?”
“Yes, and he embellished his manhood in many of them.”
Tempest huffed. “That is typical.”
“Not for a dragon. We are large... humans. There was no need for such excess.”
As she connected with him, she knew he was being analytical in his appraisal. When the image of Devlin’s painting flashed in her mind, she closed her eyes. “Gross. That almost makes me thankful I am blind.”
Rhadan laughed. “I wish Legion had not shared that image as well, but our leader has never been one to censure his thoughts.”
“He may want to learn,” she said as she reached for a scroll. The fine paper was dry and made a crackling sound as she unrolled it. The words were written in a language she had never seen, but the words blurred, and she began to read them as if they were written in English. “Did you do that?”
“Sort of. The script is ancient Sumerian. Since I can read the script, you can as well. At least while we are connected.”
The scroll depicted an ancient ceremony, but it wasn’t what she was looking for. She rolled it back up and placed it back on the shelf.
There was a slight hum in her ears, and she turned toward the sound, forgetting that Rhadan was focused ahead of them. “Rhadan, go to the left. I hear something.”
Rhadan turned them toward another row of shelving units. “I do not hear anything and there is no one else here.”
“Except those rats.”
He chuckled. “They are foraging for their young and will not bother us.”
She put her hand out when they reached a shelf holding a plain wooden bowl. It didn’t look remarkable and had no etchings on it, but when she touched it, she saw a woman in long gray robes serving a bowl of steaming liquid to her daughter. “This was owned by a druid.”
“Adara?”
“No. She has a daughter... wait. The daughter. She looks like a young version of Adara.”
