Page 19

The SUV bounced and lurched as we sped through the gates of Withermarsh. The groans of our elderly captives echoed in the cramped interior and Bastian’s grin hadn’t faltered.

“Listen to them,” he said with a jerk of his thumb toward the back of the vehicle. “It’s like a chorus of dying swans back there.” His pale eyes sparkled with mischief, as if the old men’s discomfort was the greatest joke of all. “When we went through the ward, I thought they were all going to expire right then and there and ruin all our fun.”

“Shut up, Bastian,” I growled. But he only chuckled harder, undeterred by the edge in my tone. He loved this—pushing me, testing how far he could go before I snapped.

“It’s like they’d never felt a proper ward before,” he said incredulously. “And we let these fools teach us—”

“Thankfully, none of it stuck,” I said shortly.

I pulled the SUV to a stop in the courtyard, snapped off the engine, and threw open the door. Bastian followed with nonchalant ease, and stretched as he stood beside the vehicle. It was late afternoon now, but the air was heavy, and the clouds that always hung above the estate were thick and dark—threatening a storm.

Rain.

Something worse.

I walked around to the rear of the SUV and opened the trunk. The three men inside blinked weakly at the weak daylight, and Bastian joined me.

He set his hands on his hips and looked at each of our prisoners.

“Time to get out,” Bastian sang in a chillingly cheerful tone.

One by one, we pulled them from the back of the SUV.

The captives stumbled as they were shoved toward the courtyard, their faces pale and wide-eyed with fear.

It was impossible not to savor their terror, and I watched with cold satisfaction as they struggled to regain their balance on the uneven ground. Tendrils of Bastian’s magic, and mine, bound their wrists and held their arms to their sides. But Bastian had insisted on the duct tape for their mouths.

“Just in case,” had been his reasoning.

I knew my brother better than that. The humiliation of it was the point.

“Move it! You’re not here for a fucking tea party,” Bastian taunted as he nudged one of the older men forward. They stumbled together, a knot of fear that couldn’t be untied.

They knew what awaited them inside the mansion.

Elder Ireni let out a muffled cry as he fell, and as the old headmaster’s knees hit the gravel with a thud, a thrill of darkness surged within me.

I didn’t care how Lucian would react to having these men at his mercy. All that mattered was the power I felt at that moment.

Lucian’s obsessions would be his downfall—he was the one blinded and distracted while we moved against him.

These men were just collateral damage.

No one would remember them.

But they had a purpose.

Just not the one they expected.

I slammed the trunk shut and was just about to get back into the SUV to drive it around to the garage when a sudden shout split the silence.

“Hey!”

I turned to see a figure dart away from the group like a wild animal. My heart quickened and my pulse thrummed in my ears as adrenaline coursed through me. I glanced at Bastian. My younger brother’s pale eyes were narrowed, but he didn’t seem angry. He seemed genuinely amused at the sudden show of desperation from our captives.

But not all of them.

Messana Academy’s headmaster stayed on his knees in the gravel. His shoulders shook slightly and his watery eyes were focused on the stones in front of him.

The escapee ran toward the main gates, although what he planned to do once he reached them was a mystery. Withermarsh was remote. And he would have to cross the wards if he hoped to use his power to defend himself or strike out at us… Too far for an old man to run.

Especially with his hands still bound with Bastian’s magic.

Idiot.

“Would you look at that?” Bastian mused as a cruel smile played over his lips.

“Stop him!” I commanded, but the words barely left my mouth when Bastian acted.

With a flick of his wrist, shadows twisted toward the fleeing prisoner, stretching along the gravel courtyard in pursuit. The air crackled with energy, a tension that hung just before the snap of lightning. Tendrils of dark smoke wound around Bastian’s forearms and tangled in his fingers before moving with unimaginable speed toward the fleeing Sage.

The smoky tentacles ensnared the man mid-stride like a spider catching its prey.

“Please, no!” he screamed. The sound was raw and desperate, but Bastian merely tilted his head and his eyes glinted with cruel amusement.

“It’s too late to refuse your invitation.”

The smoke constricted, squeezing the breath from the Sage’s lungs as Bastian rotated his hand to turn him toward us.

He had almost reached the gate.

Too bad.

Hope was such a frail thing.

Especially desperate hope.

Bastian turned his pale eyes to me. “What do you think Lucian will say if he finds out this little rat tried to run away?”

“He won’t like it,” I replied simply.

“No, indeed.” Bastian crooked his finger at the man and his magic dragged the captive Sage across the courtyard toward him. His toes didn’t touch the gravel, but a furrow was carved in the loose stones as though they were. “He’ll probably take it personally. Wouldn’t you agree?”

The strip of dull gray duct tape muffled the attempted escapee’s moan.

I didn’t have to reply.

Bastian reached out and ripped the duct tape from the Sage’s mouth in a swift motion. A pathetic cry trembled on the man’s lips and Bastian rolled his eyes as he tossed the tape to the gravel.

He turned to the other two captives. “Pay close attention,” he said.

A pause.

The first man followed Bastian’s instructions, but Elder Ireni kept his eyes downcast.

“Headmaaaaster—” Bastian sang in a mocking tone. “Have some respect for your fellow rat.”

I was entranced by the brutality of it all—the way Bastian reveled in his power.

The Sage at the headmaster’s right shrieked a muted protest, but Elder Ireni didn’t look up.

Bastian’s eyes flared with malice as he turned back to the captive struggling in his magic’s grasp. The man’s eyes bulged with naked terror while the black smoke drew tighter around his chest.

His scream was choked silent as Bastian’s hand clenched into a fist and the Sage’s ribs fractured under the pressure.

The sound echoed over the courtyard, but the thrill was gone too quickly.

Bastian relaxed his hand and the Sage’s lifeless body collapsed into an untidy heap at his feet.

“Ah well,” he sighed, sounding almost disappointed.

His gaze flicked to me, gauging my reaction to the display.

I shrugged as though it didn’t matter—it didn’t matter—and I was rewarded with the cruel twist of Bastian’s grin.

“Get up,” he barked at the remaining prisoners. “We’re going to do this again, and let’s try to make it inside this time.”

The other Sage reached down to help the headmaster to his feet. Blood stained the knees of the old man’s trousers. The terror in Elder Ireni’s eyes was almost satisfying.

But the former headmaster seemed to have regained some composure, enough to walk beside his companion, although the slight tremor in his hands would have made Lucian sneer.

Bastian brushed off his hands and then flicked nonexistent dirt from his cuffs. “See? That was rather entertaining,” he said. His voice was smooth and calm.

I moved closer to the prisoners and relished their flinch at my approach.

“Shall we try that again?” Bastian’s voice dripped with mockery, and I shot him a glance, half proud, half irritated. He had a way of making brutality seem almost whimsical.

Almost.

Our remaining captives shrank back further, pressed against each other as if it would save them or shield them.

Old fools.

Before we could hustle the prisoners toward the house, the doors to Withermarsh flew open, and Valen rushed out to meet us. His face was ashen, eyes wide with something I hadn’t seen in him for years.

Fear.

“Where the fuck have you been?” He demanded.

Bastian laughed, the sound too loud, too bright in the grim courtyard. “Are you kidding?” He gestured at our captives with exaggerated grandiosity. “We were a little busy…”

“Shut up,” Valen snapped. “You don’t understand. Avril—”

I pushed Bastian aside and ignored his outraged grunt. “What about her—”

The last time I’d seen her, Avril had been close to death.

We’d only just managed to pull her back from the brink of whatever ritual she’d been ensnared in. She’d almost bled to death on the bathroom floor, and we never would have known…

Valen glanced at me and then at our captives. His eyes narrowed at what was left of the Sage who hadn’t been quick enough to escape. “There’s no time to explain. We have to leave. Now.”

Bastian’s smile turned bitter. “Not without a very fucking good reason.”

Valen’s expression was hard and tight, and in that moment I glimpsed a new danger, one that curled toward me like a viper.

“Hurry up and spit it out,” Bastian added impatiently.

“Avril… she’s in danger,” Valen said.

“Explain,” I demanded. There was no room for hesitation. I needed answers, and I needed them fast.

“Ah, shit,” Bastian muttered. “Too slow—”

I glanced over Valen’s shoulder and my jaw tightened. One of our father’s advisors hurried across the courtyard toward us.

Lucian knew we were here.

Of course he did.

“It’s going to have to wait,” I said.

Valen’s eyes widened. “Titus—”

“Shut up,” I growled as the advisor reached us.

A little lizard of a man, I’d never bothered to learn his name. Smooth-skinned and skittering, he was always the first to answer every one of Lucian’s demands. He also held no fear of us, which made me hate him even more.

“What do you want?” Bastian sneered.

“Master Lucian requests your presence at once,” the man intoned. His black eyes glittered as they skimmed over us.

“Can’t you see we’re on our way?” Bastian retorted.

The man inclined his smooth head. “Of course,” he said. “He merely wishes for me to impress upon you the urgency of his demand.”

“Let’s move.” I snapped and pushed past our father’s advisor.

“Bring them along,” Bastian growled as we passed.

“As you say,” the man replied.

Valen, Bastian, and I strode across the courtyard without looking back.

“Don’t let him get to you,” Bastian said, as he cast a sidelong look at Valen. “Whatever he has to say can wait.”

But could it?

Valen was more emotional than Bastian—certainly more than I was—but he didn’t get worked up over nothing.

I wanted to ask him.

The tone of his voice when he’d mentioned Avril—and the fear in his eyes—

I didn’t like it.

But we didn’t have time.

Lucian was impatient at the best of times.

And this was absolutely not a good time.

Valen kept silent as we walked through the house, and when we reached the door of Lucian’s study, I was surprised to find it open.

Our father sat behind his ornate desk and the red orb floated above his shoulder. It pulsed gently in time with his heartbeat, and I had to force myself not to stare at it. The scarlet glow bathed one side of Lucian’s face and stained his moonlight pale hair.

I could almost taste the anger rolling off him in waves.

What now? Hadn’t we done everything he’d asked of us?

And more?

“You’re late,” he said. His smooth voice was edged with venom, and I straightened my shoulders as his pale gaze fixed on me.

“Forgive us, Father,” I shot back, forcing a smirk that felt more like a grimace. “Traffic was murder.”

“Enough,” Lucian snarled. “Have you done what I’ve asked?”

I didn’t flinch. “You know we have.”

“Your sons have, indeed, delivered on their promises,” the advisor said.

Bastian let out a curse. I hadn’t heard him enter the room, either.

The prisoners, bound in tendrils of pale orange smoke, floated between us, suspended off the ground by the lizard-like man’s magic.

Their fear was nakedly apparent now.

Good.

Surely this would keep Lucian distracted.

I pushed everything else from my thoughts and hoped that my brothers had done the same. We’d all learned to keep our thoughts hidden from Lucian—one way or another.

Lucian’s focus was on our guests, but a frown darkened his expression.

“Only two?”

Bastian let out a heavy sigh. “There were three, father. But one of them tried to run... I don’t like rabbits.”

A twitch at the corner of Lucian’s mouth was his only reaction, but his eyes didn’t leave the Sages suspended before him.

“Do you know why you’re here?” Lucian leaned forward and his fingers splayed on the desk like claws.

Elder Ireni’s eyes widened.

He knew.

“Traitors,” Lucian growled. “Turncoats. Cowards…”

He extended the words as he spoke. Drawing out each consonant to make a point of each one.

Silence stretched in the room, broken only by the snap of the fire that burned in the hearth.

“But your treachery has reached new depths,” he continued. “You have struck at me in more ways than I can count— and I have borne each insult with grace and mercy…”

Had he?

Behind me, Bastian snorted, and I resisted the urge to shove him into silence.

Lucian rose from his chair, and the red orb rose with him. Its crimson glow pulsed faster as it floated near his shoulder. “But this time you have struck too carelessly,” he cried. “This time you have gone too far!”

What was he talking about?

I glanced at my brothers. Valen’s expression was hard, but Bastian looked confused.

“What—” I began.

“Avril is missing,” Lucian shouted. “You have kidnapped my bride out from under my very hand—”

His words hit me like a brick wall at high speed.

“What—”

“I tried to tell you,” Valen hissed.

“Silence!”

Lucian’s shout tore through the room, and the prisoners groaned. Elder Ireni closed his eyes.

I glanced at Valen. He stood rigid and the tattoos on his arms swirled ominously against his skin. He had tried to tell us.

“You have brought me traitors—vacillators who cannot choose a side,” he continued in a low tone that was both dangerous and familiar. “You have done this. You have struck at me in the only way you know how— By attacking the weakest of us. My bride is an innocent— And now, by this action, you have corrupted the vow that you swore to the Necromi.”

Shadows coiled in the corners of the room and flickering ominously in the dim light. I could sense their hunger gnawing at me, and the captives in the grotesque painting that hung upon the wall above the fireplace writhed in response. The headmaster watched them too. He knew all too well what awaited anyone who dared to defy our father.

“Elder Ireni Ubaris.” His pale eyes bore down on the trembling man suspended before him. “Where is she?”

The headmaster’s throat bobbed as he swallowed hard. “I—I don’t know! I swear it! I am innocent!” His voice cracked pitifully and my lip curled before I could stop myself. “I was the one who brought her to you— Surely, you wouldn’t suspect me! It was I who kept her safe—and unmolested—for you!”

Anger welled up inside me, and even Bastian flinched at those words.

How could they talk about Avril like this?

It occurred to me that we had spoken of her in the same detached way—

But that was before—

“Innocence is a lie,” Lucian hissed, “in Messana, there are no innocents. And you know that very well.”

He walked around his desk with slow, deliberate steps. “What you are, however, is a failure . And failures deserve punishment. You know who took her.”

Elder Ireni’s eyes widened to a comical size. “I— I swear to you—”

“You have sworn to me,” Lucian said softly. “You swore your life. Your loyalty. To the Necromi. To me.”

“I—”

“And you have broken that oath, haven’t you?”

The elder shook his head desperately, but the orange smoke wound around his head and held him steady and the old man let out a whimper as Lucian came closer.

“Who moves against me?” he hissed.

With each word, the air grew colder, suffocating. I exchanged glances with Valen and Bastian, both of their expressions etched with both horror and resignation. We couldn’t do anything. This was Lucian’s domain.

Lucian extended his long fingers, blackened and stained from countless dark rituals, and summoned tendrils of red smoke from the orb that hovered beside him. They wrapped around him like serpents, breaking through the pale orange magic of his assistant.

They constricted around the old man in an agonizing grip.

The headmaster’s eyes bulged in terror, and a strangled cry escaped his lips that echoed off the high bookshelves.

“Please!” he gasped. “I cannot help you. I did not take her!”

Lucian’s pale eyes narrowed. “The Black Council looks to you for guidance—they wouldn’t act without your approval.”

He stepped closer and laid his fingertips against the old man’s sweat-slicked cheek. “Tell me, headmaster. How long have you been plotting against me?”

“I haven’t,” the old man choked out.

“I don’t believe you,” Lucian said casually.

With a flick of his wrist, Lucian unleashed a surge of magic, and a thick column of red smoke, sharpened at one end like a harpoon, streaked from the red orb into the headmaster’s chest.

The scream that erupted from the headmaster filled the study and wrapped around my senses like a noose.

The old man’s body bucked and writhed against the unrelenting force of Lucian’s cruelty and blood dripped onto the floor as the spear of magic pushed slowly into the headmaster’s chest and then burst through his back.

Gore dripped from the smokey barb and splashed onto the flagstones.

It was a horrific spectacle, yet I found myself rooted to the spot, unable to look away.

“Where is she?” Lucian pressed.

The shadows writhed, and the headmaster’s cries grew hoarse— Raw and jagged.

Pitiful.

The headmaster’s mouth opened and closed soundlessly, but the other captive suddenly seemed to find his voice.

“Please! He wasn’t involved!” the man begged.

Lucian’s focus turned to him, and he began to jabber. “I swear it! You have to believe me!”

“Believe you ?” Lucian echoed, his tone dripping with mockery. “Why would I waste such luxury on a pathetic worm like you ?” He twisted his fingers, and the red smoke responded with a vicious snap as it dissipated.

The headmaster’s body fell to the ground with a sickening thud and he lay in the puddle of his own bodily fluids.

Shuddering as the last pulses of his dying magic sparked through him.

Bastian shifted beside me, his fists clenched tight enough to turn his knuckles white. I could feel the heat of his frustration, but I couldn’t decide if he wanted to jump in and finish the job himself, or interrupt our father in his pursuit of justice.

“Will you speak for the dead?” Lucian asked. His voice was deceptively calm, as if he were merely discussing the weather rather than orchestrating a carnival of agony. He leaned closer, and the man turned his face away—Lucian’s icy eyes glittered. A predator savoring the scent of fear.

“Please... I can help you find her… Just stop!” The old man’s voice trembled as he broke into sobs that filled the air.

A part of me recoiled at the sight, even knowing the depths of the treachery that had been conducted under our father’s nose.

“Help?” Lucian spat the word, leaning in until his face was inches from his captive. “What use is your help when it is already tainted with lies?”

He paused, allowing the man’s sobs to fill the air.

Then he spun on his heel, dismissing him with a flick of his wrist.

“Get him out of my sight,” Lucian commanded.

The magical bonds that held the final captive dissipated and the pathetic Sage fell to the stone floor. He let out a strangled grunt as he landed, and then a terrified scream, barely muffled, tore from his lips as he stared into the sightless eyes of the headmaster. He pushed himself back, away from the corpse, and Lucian’s advisor caught him in a snare of his orange magic once more and dragged him, kicking and groaning, from the study.

Silence fell over the room once more, and I shifted under the chill of Lucian’s gaze as it landed back on us.

“You thought you could hide this from me?” he snarled. “How much did you know?”

Bastian’s eyes narrowed, and Valen’s expression hardened. I took a breath and met our father’s stare.

“Nothing,” I said. “We’ve been out doing your bidding all day— How the hell could we have known?”

“Liars!” Lucian’s fist slammed into the desk. “You brought me these two, knowing they couldn’t tell me anything—”

“We brought you the architects of the Black Council’s rebellion,” I shot back. “And you’ve wasted your chance— Elder Ireni is dead. You’ll get nothing out of his corpse!”

Lucian’s lip curled, and as he turned away from us, the crimson glow of his orb pulsed against his back.

“Leave,” he said shortly. “And don’t come back until you’ve found her.”

I spun on my heel and strode toward the open door of the study.

Valen and Bastian followed me without a word.

We moved through the halls of Withermarsh in silence, and I took the stairs two at a time, suddenly desperate to be as far away from our father as possible.

Desperate to understand what was going on.

Desperate to find Avril.

My brothers kept pace, and when we reached the second-floor landing, Valen broke the silence.

“You should have let me explain,” he said, breathless.

“Would it have changed anything?” I snapped.

Valen didn’t answer.

I wrenched open the door to our suite and let it slam against the wall.

Bastian shoved past me into the room.

“I can’t fucking believe this!” he shouted. He turned to me, eyes blazing with anger. “Did you know about this?”

His accusation hit me like a physical blow. “Are you fucking serious? Do you think I had time to plan a kidnapping while I was babysitting your ass?”

“Then how the hell could it happen?”

“Shut up,” Valen said. “Both of you. This isn’t helping, and we’re running out of time.”

Bastian shot him a glare, but Valen didn’t back down.

“Avril was gone when I got back this morning. I thought—”

“You thought what?”

Valen didn’t look away. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Oh, but I think it does,” I said. “You know something. I can feel it. You’re a shit liar, Valen.”

Bastian loomed at the edge of the confrontation. He enjoyed it when we argued. His hatred of Valen had always been the keen edge of a knife. The only time he didn’t resent Valen—the only time they weren’t in competition—was when we were with Avril.

“Spill it,” Bastian hissed. “You know something.”

Valen’s jaw twitched.

“She asked me to help her escape,” he said.

“What?” Bastian’s shout echoed in the room, and before I could stop him, he’d pinned Valen against the stone wall with his arm across his throat.

Valen didn’t fight back, but his hands were set on Bastian’s arm to keep him from cutting off his air supply.

“What?” Bastian shouted in his face.

“She asked me to help her escape,” Valen replied through gritted teeth. “So I did.”

“Get off him,” I snapped. “It’s not going to change anything.”

Bastian let out a strangled growl and stepped away, and Valen coughed and rubbed at his throat.

I crossed my arms over my chest and glared at Valen while Bastian paced behind me. “Tell us what you did.”

Valen shrugged. “I put a motorcycle in the forest for her— I taught her to ride and told her I’d find her.”

Bastian’s face was red.

“Were you going to fucking tell us?” he choked out.

Valen glared back at him. “What does it matter?”

“Were you waiting for her?” I asked.

Valen nodded. “She never came— I found the bike in the woods.”

“Fuck!” Bastian unleashed a smoking projectile at the wall and mortar dust and chunks of stone rained down as the floor vibrated under my boots.

“Get your shit together,” I snapped at my younger brother. “You’re not helping anything. Lucian can’t find out—”

“He’s a fucking traitor,” Bastian said through gritted teeth.

Regret was nowhere to be found on Valen’s face. I didn’t blame him.

Maybe the anger that filled my chest had a different source. Maybe it was because Bastian and I hadn’t been able to enact our own plan fast enough. She’s chosen Valen’s plan instead.

We’d offered her power.

He’d offered her escape.

Freedom.

Fuck.

I stepped forward and stabbed my finger into Valen’s chest. He met my glare without flinching.

“When we get Avril back— We’ll deal with you.”

I meant it as a threat.

And a promise.

If anything had happened to her, I’d be holding Valen personally responsible.

And he knew it.