Page 25 of A Hunt Bound in Blood

Glory tossed the wood into the firepit and set her hands on her hips, her stare fixed so strongly on the unlit wood I was amazed it didn’t burst into flames. “If I’m so strong, why couldn’t I manipulate the earth to help us out of that hole?”

“In sum, yes.” All this time, she’d told me how her magic didn’t work. “Were you trying to keep it a secret?”

“It’s no secret. I couldn’t hide my mage status if I wanted to. All mages are tested and their abilities registered when they turn fifteen.”

I tilted my head, hating my curiosity, but this question was a scab that begged to be picked. “Can you not cast?”

Finally she raised her gaze to meet mine. I expected to find a raging storm behind the green-and-honey irises to reflect the sheer amount of power that had to be contained inside this tiny woman, but although I was struck by their intensity, I found no anger.

“I can. I choose not to,” she said. I opened my mouth to ask why, but she cut in with even more force behind her words, as though it was a story she was tired of telling. “Because when I do, I unleash too much power and can’t control it. When I first came into my magic at twelve years old, I destroyed my family home and nearly killed my mother. She helped me rein it in, but that was the first and last time I’ve touched it beyond the basics. There is no middle ground. Either I’m a useless mage who can barely start a fire, or I go full tilt. If I don’t stay in control at all times, I lose all control.”

I whistled. “You could reduce this entire forest to kindling.”

“To a crater.”

Again I tasted a flicker of her frustration, but it was overpowered by something more acidic that curdled on my tongue. Desperation. She was holding it back, but the strength of it struggled against her willpower, hinting at the raging rapids hiding beneath her impassive facade.

I sipped the entire complex bouquet, becoming more intrigued with every new sampling. Everything about Glory said that she was a boring, uptight academic, but I was quickly learning that, with every turn, there was something new about her to discover.

So much like the ruins I loved to explore.

I eyed her sidelong. “With that sort of self-control, I can see why you’d be exactly what Evaniel would appreciate. And maybe use?”

She blinked and turned away, reaching for the fire starter I’d left out. “It’s certainly on the table, though I would prefer that not be the case.” She raised her chin. “Which is why I’m here. Which is why I’m going to find this amulet and return it to the king so I can remove myself from the council and disappear into my library.”

The whiff of smoke and flash of light filled the darkening camp, and then Glory returned to her tent. I watched her go, my cursed curiosity piqued. I wondered what Evaniel had promised her in return for saving his betrothed.

I also wondered how willing he would be to keep that promise. With such a weapon at his side, would he really agree to let her walk away?

Glory

XIII

Alone in my tent, listening to the fire crackling outside and Cammon moving around as he got ready for bed, I searched through my pack for my flask. My terror while I’d dangled over that spike pit had drained me, and I needed a pick-me-up to prepare for tomorrow. That had been too close.

What had Mage Tersey been thinking, creating a trap like that? What would be left of the glade? How many other unsuspecting travellers would take an unexpected tumble, unless it closed in on itself after a while?

I made a note to flag the problem to King Evaniel the next time we were in contact, but I’d have to wait for him to check in. He’d been clear about the two occasions to message him: when I found the amulet or if I discovered it didn’t exist. My priority had to be finding the next landmark. For so many more reasons than I’d let myself believe when we’d started out.

Cammon’s questions about my mage status had reinforced how much I stood to gain by succeeding. Not only to keep my vampiric half hidden, but also to keep my magical workings to myself. The demon was correct, of course. The king had hinted more than once that in the case of war, I would be expected to stand at his side. But that wasn’t what I wanted. I wasn’t a fighter, especially not when tapping into the depth of one half of my power left me open to revealing the other half. Even if I believed His Majesty’s spymaster—and maybe His Majesty—already knew my secret, King Evaniel wouldn’t be able to dismiss the truth if it came to light. He would need to get rid of me to prevent causing a panic or setting a precedent.

Yet more reasons to keep my secrets around this demon. The rush of today had pushed me to be a little more lax with my answers than I otherwise might have been, but I couldn’t continue like that. Cammon was more dangerous than I’d realized. His show of indifference—his seeming lack of interest in me or my life—had made it easy to be honest with him when he’d asked about my magic. A return of openness after he’d shared something about himself by revealing his wings. A secret for a secret. Now we could go back to not talking about ourselves.

And yet I couldn’t stop thinking about those wings, so strong and so beautiful, and the way the black feathers had caught the sunset, flashing gold and red with every beat. I’d read about some demons having wings—and horns and tails and scales and all kinds of things—but I’d never seen anything like the swaths of darkness that had sprung from his back. It made me wonder what other secrets he was keeping.

My skin flushed, and I rubbed my sternum to assuage some of the heat. This demon was everything my parents, Ashara, and society had warned me about. He was fire, luring me in to touch the flame, and I’d underestimated the effort it would take to keep my distance. I had to remember what he was: a demon, a rogue. He was not to be trusted.

I wouldn’t give in.

But maybe I could allow myself to admire the view.

Dangerous waters, but today had taught me that out here we were walking through dangers anyway—I had to be ready to confront them.

I slept through the night for the first time in three nights, waking up with the rising sun. Cammon was already awake, of course. I was starting to suspect the demon never slept. He’d already found a river to bathe in and gather some water, but this morning he’d brought enough back for the both of us, his thoughtfulness more than a little surprising.

Packing up my tent was a much less arduous affair today, and the sun was just streaming around the thick tree trunks by the time we sat around the fire. A small pot of tea sat steeping, and we readied a light breakfast while we argued over the next clue.

“I still think this reference to ‘rapid ruins’ points to Fadley Falls,” I said.