Page 40

T HE NEXT MORNING , T OVEN ’ S DOOR WAS LOCKED .

“Of course,” she whispered to herself, glaring at the walls of the house.

After finding nothing new on the Journal page, Briony went to the library and looked up another book on mind barriers, though she knew it was foolish to think she could use the techniques inside one day.

Her mind wandered to Mallow and to how one could possibly learn mind-reading skills without a formal education in mind magic.

Was the dragon truly that powerful, to help her bypass years of study?

She began to research the dragon that afternoon.

Legend had it that the first known dragons were magician-made.

The most powerful mage of thousands of years ago, in what was currently known as Starksen, created a dragon and his mate out of the ether.

The dragons pledged their allegiance to that mage and completed the familiar bond.

Briony read through sightings of Mallow’s dragon over the past six hundred years, trying to learn as much as she could about where it had been and why it could have been called to return. Her research left her with plenty of notes without a central thesis.

When she’d had enough of the dragon, she spent hours reading and rereading the books on mind barriers. There were so many tricks to meditation, but the water imagery in particular was effective. It helped her to think of the lakes of Evermore.

Think of a lake with still waters.

Briony began to walk the grounds, spending a few hours a day near the pond, sitting on the grassy shore and meditating.

On the far side, close to the forest, there was a tree on the water’s edge, dangerously close to losing its balance into the pond.

It reminded her of the willow tree at the Eversun school.

She plopped herself down in the grass near the tree, dropping several books next to her. Gazing at the water’s surface, Briony blocked the sounds and smells around her, focusing on her sight only.

Think of a lake with still waters.

A breeze kissed the surface, rippling the water. Briony focused on the depths below, still not visible even after the water stilled again.

The sun dipped lower as she meditated, her hands clasped together, and her thoughts far away.

“You’ve mastered meditation, I see.”

She blinked at the pond, the voice beckoning her mind forward. She turned, and Toven stood behind the tree. She stumbled to her feet, a book falling from her lap. There was a flurry of movement as she retrieved it and he stepped forward.

Standing tall again, the book held tightly in her hands, she met his eyes.

“You’re back.”

“Yes, just twenty minutes ago.”

Her eyes scanned him. He wore comfortable trousers and a buttoned shirt. Not a hair out of place. Not a scratch or tremor or bloody stain. But his left arm—he held it across his stomach as if it were in a sling.

“Your arm.” She stepped toward him and stopped. She watched his throat bob. “What happened to it?”

“An injury,” he said quickly. “It wasn’t my intention to leave you alone—”

“What kind of injury?”

He looked down at his shoulder. “A Blood Boil that started toward my heart, and a Bone Dust spell that got my shoulder. I’m almost healed. I just shouldn’t use my arm for a few more days.”

Blood Boil and Bone Dust. Briony swallowed, visualizing how incredibly painful it must have been to feel his blood boiling and his bones shattering into pieces. Terrible heart magic.

And then she remembered Castle Javis. And the people his father had killed.

She closed down her concern and joy at seeing him alive. “Did it happen at Javis?”

His eyes snapped up from the path they were taking over her clavicles. He examined her, and then it seemed to dawn on him.

“So you’ve been reading the Journal page.”

“Is it true that my cousin Finola is dead?” She could hear the blood rushing through her ears.

“She’s dead.” The answer was swift and merciless.

A heavy weight settled in her chest. “And your father killed her? My cousin is dead because of your father?”

“This is a war, Rosewood.” He stepped closer to her, and she noticed that he wobbled on his left leg. “Or have you forgotten?”

“The war is won,” she hissed. “You won. But of course, you won’t stop until every last one of us is dead or in chains.”

“How in the stones is this my fault? It was my father who killed her—”

“Just because a few people were trying to escape—”

“No, to kill the woman murdering his son.”

Briony’s lips opened. And closed.

Finola had been responsible for the Blood Boil and Bone Dust curses?

She swallowed, feeling her stomach churn and tumble as her fingers dug into the spine of her book. She felt a desperate need to turn the conversation away.

“Any other questions, Rosewood?” he said, but it was a whisper in the space between them.

Millions, actually.

“What would have happened to me if you’d died?” she whispered, watching his brows furrow and his eyes clear. “Would I have gone back to auction?”

His face twitched violently, as if he’d been slapped. He stepped back from her, eyes tracing her from top to bottom, and he exhaled sharply. Blinking, his mask fell back into place.

“My mother would have taken care of you—”

“Your mother ?” Briony laughed, thinking of the woman whom she’d hardly interacted with. “Why would your grieving mother spare a thought for me?”

He swallowed. “She wouldn’t have let you go back to auction.” But he didn’t sound convinced. He looked over her shoulder at the pond, and her confidence faltered.

“Would I have been returned to Reighven?”

His head snapped back to her, and his eyes turned hard as stone. “No. He has no claim on you any longer.” She felt a chill across her shoulders, and a darkness rolled off him. “You don’t need to worry about Reighven.”

She looked up into his dark eyes, searching for the source of it all. “What did you give him in exchange for me?”

He swallowed, and she waited for him to tell her the truth or a lie.

“The one thing he wanted more than you,” he said.

Her heart pounded and her breath left her as her mind worked through all the possibilities. “Which was?”

“It’s a private agreement,” he said softly. “I couldn’t tell you even if I felt compelled to.”

She glared at him. “Why even buy me if you aren’t going to use me as a heartspring?”

He took a breath, and she prepared herself for the range of answers he could give.

She thought of the ribbon in his drawer, her bedroom close to his, the way he held her while she bled.

She thought of the esteem she brought the Hearst family, the way Mallow had smiled when Toven boasted about the money spent to obtain her.

But she thought about the answer she most hoped to hear, even for all her logic.

That she was more than a heartspring to him. That she was more than an Eversun princess.

His eyes turned to a spot over her shoulder, and his lips pressed tightly together.

“What kind of answer would you prefer, Rosewood?”

“I’d prefer the truth, but I don’t assume I’ll get that from you.”

She grabbed her extra books from the grass and marched past him.

She was boiling. She’d made it ten steps beyond the tree before he spoke. “Rosewood, can’t it just be the right thing?”

Spinning back to him, she laughed dryly. “The right thing? The right thing would have been stopping the auction altogether. The right thing would have been not going with your father the day the Bomardi school was attacked.” Her voice cracked, and she swallowed.

She shouldn’t have brought up that day.

He lifted a brow, and the haughty look he sent her sizzled her nerve endings, firing up her blood.

“But if I’d fallen on my sword, Rosewood,” he said, “who would have set you up in a private suite?” He prowled forward, his injured arm hanging uselessly across his chest. Her skin was buzzing. “Who would allow you privacy and leave your magic untouched—”

“I didn’t ask for any of this, Hearst—”

“—certainly not Reighven.”

Her lips curled back as she bared her teeth at him. “Is it gratitude you’re looking for? You want me to say thank you ?”

“It’d be a fucking start.”

His breath was hot on her face. He glared down at her, his eyes flashing. Her fingers itched to hit him, to push him back. She was shaking with it.

“I won’t say thank you for something so selfishly motivated. Clearly, nothing you’ve done has been for the greater good if you need validation for it.”

“‘Selfishly motivated’?” His eyes dragged over her lips and shoulders, down to her chest. “You’re the one who sought out my bedroom, Rosewood.”

He smirked at her, and she saw red.

She vibrated with the need to hurt him. It shook her every muscle until her hands fisted with her determination not to raise a hand to her captor, and the energy punched its way down her legs. Ready to snap back at him, she stomped her foot on the ground, freeing the electricity—

Toven jerked back, flying through the air as if on a string, his lips parted in a silent gasp. His body slammed against the tree trunk with a crunch, and he crumpled to the ground.

Briony stood, mouth wide and eyes popping, looking for the source of the magic. Looking for the reason …

Her fingers shook, life sparking in them.

Her magic.

The collar wasn’t working. When had that happened?

Her eyes snapped back to Toven, curled in on himself, wheezing.

Had he granted her request? Had he given her back her magic?

“Toven, I …” she stammered, “I didn’t mean to—”

He gasped a rattle. His eyes were pale, and his skin was gray. His injured arm still held across his chest, leaning back against the trunk, but his entire left shoulder seemed disfigured.

His shoulder had been dust not long ago, and she’d just slammed him against a tree.

She was running to his side before she could command her feet. Dropping to her knees, her hands reached for him, stopping short when she didn’t know where to touch him.

His head turned away from her, eyes squeezing shut. A tear dripping out of his closed eye. He wheezed.

“Toven, can you”—her voice shook and fingers trembled—“can you stand?”

He coughed, and blood sprayed from his lips onto her dress.

Her head whipped to Hearst Hall. “Help!”

But they were too far away, and his lungs sounded wet. She couldn’t run and make it back in time.

She looked down at him. “Tell me what to do. Tell me how to fix it.”

He wheezed, his eyes locked on her face. He seemed calm. Almost resigned.

She would not be.

Briony dropped his hand and rose to her feet. She turned to the forest.

“Vesper!” She scanned the forest, eyes darting for movement, heart pounding in fear. “Vesper! You must come!”

There was a crunch of leaves to her right, and the sly gray fox poked her head out from behind a bush. The fox let out a high keen and bounded toward them. A gust of relief whooshed from Briony as she dropped back to her knees beside the animal.

Vesper sniffed at Toven as he lay wheezing, and then she snapped her jaws at Briony.

“I know,” she said, raising her hands. “Just fix it, and then you can bite me again.”

The fox bit down on Toven’s collar—and with a burst of wind, they were gone.

She gasped. She’d never seen a familiar’s magic up close like that.

She was alone at the pond. She was alone, and she’d hurt him.

Gasping with sudden tears, she looked to his bedroom window—the corner bedroom on the second floor.

The candles were lit inside.

She grabbed up the books she’d dropped and ran.

Her legs carried her through the gardens and up the stairs to the entrance.

Then she was at the base of the marble stairs, her feet thumping as she ran up to their shared wing, barreling toward the door with the fox carving.

The door handle didn’t turn. She had to see him.

Suddenly the door flung open, and Serena Hearst’s face was there, scowling at her.

“Miss Rosewood. You must let us fix this before you cause more damage.”

Briony sobbed. “I didn’t mean to harm him, please—”

Toven screamed beyond the cracked door, and she shuddered, craning her neck to see into the room. Serena closed the door on her and locked it before Briony could blink.

She stared at the carved fox, her hand covering her mouth. He’d been recovering for a week, and she’d undone it all.

Briony stumbled back, still confused where her magic had come from.

She felt someone in the hall before she heard them. Glancing up, Briony barely had a second to take in Orion Hearst’s vicious expression before she was flung back against the wall, her body hanging by an invisible force, her throat closing with the magic he held her neck with.

Briony’s eyes bulged in panic, and her feet kicked at the air. Her shock battled with her fury over seeing her cousin’s killer in the flesh.

Orion Hearst snarled in her face, one hand held out as if he were choking her.

“Do you have any idea how difficult you make my life, Miss Rosewood?” he asked her, his voice deceptively calm.

She tried to speak, croaking, “It was an accident—”

“It would be so easy to just be rid of you,” he said softly.

His fingers twitched in the air, and fear choked her as she wondered if he would just snap her neck.

Her legs scrambled against the wall. He leaned in to her and whispered, “You wanted your magic back to learn mind barriers? Go learn mind barriers .”

He released her, and she dropped to the floor in a heap of limbs. She gasped for air as he spun on his heel and disappeared into Toven’s bedroom.

Toven’s groaning filled the hallway, and Orion hissed, “The medics told you it was too soon, Toven.”

The door slammed, and she listened to the echo of it bounce over the hall.

Briony’s heart raced. Orion Hearst knew she had her magic, and he didn’t plan on taking it from her.

Briony pulled her legs into herself, trying to catch her breath until her shoulders stopped shaking and the image behind her eyelids of Toven crumpled under that tree vanished.

She lifted her hand and slowly rotated her fingers …

The string behind her eyes that felt like home vibrated.

A soft wind filled the hallway, and Briony sighed in relief.

Tears fell down her cheeks with the onslaught of emotions.

The simultaneous fear and fury that Orion Hearst arose in her, the hollow grief over losing Finola, and the guilt sitting heavy on her chest for the agony Toven was in.

But as she plucked that string of magic again and felt her body sing, all of it washed away.

She kept vigil outside Toven’s bedroom, with only one set of thoughts chasing each other around her mind. She had her magic. She’d asked for it, and Toven had given it to her.

The Hearsts must be desperate for her to learn mind barriers, and Briony couldn’t imagine why.