Page 45 of Sonnets and Serpents (Casters and Crowns #2)

Feeling any better?” Henry asked, clearly anxious to be on their way. He stood with tense shoulders and a clenched jaw while Eliza hung back, her eyes on the ground.

As a fellow Affiliate, Silas’s sympathy should have rested with Henry, but he was too caught up in the echo of Eliza’s breaking voice.

I said I love you! Did you even hear?

The most foolish part of himself wished he knew a Pravish sonnet, wished he could offer something to lift her eyes and restore her smile.

But she didn’t want to hear such things from him anyway.

Gripping the bench, he pushed himself up. His stiff leg ached, but that wasn’t going to fix itself in a day. So he nodded his readiness, and even though Henry offered assistance, he walked on his own.

As they entered the Yamakaz, Silas turned his attention to the stairs, but Henry fixed on the front desk, coming to a startled halt.

“Baron!” he shouted.

Silas blinked, certain he was mistaken. The librarians at the desk scowled at the loud shout, and it also drew the attention of the man they’d been conversing with.

He wore a dark, tailored suit, evident of Loegrian nobility, though the gentlemanly demeanor was tempered by both the sword at his side and the Caster’s brand on his neck.

His reddish hair looked windblown, as if he’d shown up in a hurry, and when his green eyes locked on Silas, his expression split in a grin.

In quick strides, he crossed the distance, and before Silas could protest, Gill pulled him into a crushing hug.

“Let me up for air,” Silas complained, thumping him on the back. But when he pulled away, he wore a grin of his own. “Guillaume Reeves on Pravish shores. I’m not one to doubt my senses, but . . .”

“I’m here on Her Majesty’s business.” Gill’s eyes flickered toward Eliza as he added, “Aria’s concerned about her sister.”

Eliza flushed pink from her neck to her ears, as if she’d been caught in something scandalous.

Silas huffed. “I sent word she was safe.”

“That was before Eliza’s letter about Henry’s disappearance. After that, Aria’s worry wasn’t so much for Eliza’s safety as it was for the people of Pravusat if they stood in her sister’s way—or so she told me.”

He gave a mischievous smile, and Eliza’s coloring darkened.

“I didn’t tear the country apart,” she mumbled.

“Much,” Silas couldn’t help adding.

She wrinkled her freckled nose at him.

Gill turned his attention to Henry, extending a handshake and gripping the knight’s shoulder. “Glad to see you’ve been found after all.”

“It’s a long story,” Henry said weakly.

Ever courteous, Gill didn’t press for details.

Instead, he produced a signed, stamped document from an inner pocket of his vest. “Your official pardon.” He leaned in slightly, lowering his voice.

“And I’ve been warned by your father that if I’m unable to bring you home, he’ll come for the rescue himself. ”

Henry paled, his brow furrowing as if torn between fear and gratitude. Even so, he grasped the parchment with steady fingers. His control was admirable; it would serve him well as an Animal Affiliate.

Finally, Gill swept a deep bow in Eliza’s direction. “Your Royal Highness, I’m pleased to see you safe as well, and I’m sorry we didn’t have the chance to be acquainted earlier.”

“Before I ran away from home, you mean?” Eliza gave a nervous laugh, shaking her head. “So you’re Aria’s Baron—er, Guillaume. I . . . would you—um, can I call you Gill?”

Shooting a quick glance at Silas, as if trying to discern what had already been said about him, Gill nodded. “I know ‘Baron’ is an unorthodox nickname. If you’d prefer ‘Gill,’ it doesn’t bother me.”

“Unorthodox nickname, perhaps, but a clever secret identity.” Eliza smiled ruefully.

“I tried for weeks to discover where all of Aria’s secret love letters were coming from—which baron in the kingdom might have caught my sister’s attention.

She was wholeheartedly smitten, you know.

I even caught her daydreaming. My sister, the practical crown princess who always saw courting as just one more duty on the list.”

Her smile widened. “Maybe we hadn’t met before now, but I always knew what mattered. You make Aria happy.”

Gill seemed stunned. Slowly, he dipped another bow, his hand pressed to his heart. “I’ll try all my life to continue to do so, Highness. You have my word.”

“Thank you for not getting married before I could be there.” She squinted. “You haven’t, right?”

“Aria wouldn’t dream of it. To be honest, there are people I’d like present as well.”

Gill’s gaze returned to Silas, settling on him like a heavy weight. He extended a second pardon identical to Henry’s, and Silas eyed the official document in the manner of evaluating a frozen lake for stability.

Rather than accepting it, he handed Gill the bone-box Artifact.

“What do you make of that?” he asked quietly.

His friend hovered a moment longer, then tucked away the pardon, removed his gloves, and set to examining the box. After only a moment in his hands, the symbols took on a faint, hazy glow.

Silas felt a flash of triumph. He could always count on Gilly.

The Caster gave a disquieted hum. “This is human blood”—he indicated the symbols—“embedded in the bone. Some kind of Fluid Casting. I’ve never seen anything like it, but I’m sure you assumed that.”

“It’s a triple composition,” Silas said. “The first of its kind.”

Three magic types combined in one Artifact. Only the loftiest dreamers would have dared imagine it, and here it was, made real.

Gill’s fingers brushed the deep gash in the Artifact’s edge, and his brow furrowed.

“The damage makes it hard to read the Cast, but as far as I can tell, it’s meant to siphon and hold magic.

If the reservoir is ever fully depleted, the Artifact will cease functioning.

” Tapping the gash again, he concluded, “I’d assume that’s what happened here.

Someone took the full magic supply without leaving any reserve. ”

Someone like Ceyda, using it without knowing the Artifact’s limitations.

Not for the first time, Silas mourned all the achievements his best friend could have made had he been born anywhere but Loegria.

“Thanks, Gilly,” he said, his mind already racing through implications. Dazed, he added, “I need a place to write.”

He limped to the nearest empty table and dumped out the contents of his bag, snatching up his pen and journal. Faintly, he heard Gill express concern and Eliza explain the cobra bite. Silas tuned them out and poured his thoughts in ink over the page.

Sketching furiously, he drew a triangle with three types of magic. He added the names of everyone tangled in this mystery—Havva, Ceyda, Mazhar, Yvette, himself.

If Iyal Havva had died in the experiment, perhaps he’d been betrayed by his Fluid Caster, or perhaps he’d been sabotaged by another Stone Caster who didn’t want to contribute their own bones to the Artifact.

He circled Silas Bennett, venom, then wrote, WHY?

Affiliates could only create Artifacts from a piece of their animal link.

Casters had to use something related to the purpose of their Cast. Historically, the two branches of warlockry couldn’t work together because there were no Casts that coordinated with snakeskin or hawk feathers or ferret pelts.

This Artifact was made of human bone. It couldn’t hold any Affiliate power.

Except . . .

This is human blood, Gill had said, embedded in the bone.

When Kerem had first brought Iyal Mazhar into their venom research, the Fluid Caster had talked animatedly about the possible benefits of their joint research in the medical field, including use in pain treatment and blood clotting.

“You snakes are remarkable!” Mazhar had declared.

“I always thought Affiliates weren’t that useful, no offense.

Turn animal, sure, and you’re quicker or stronger than the original.

You can transform someone else if you get a good bite off.

That’s all. This venom is different. Paralysis, sleep, hallucinations—the effects go on, and so do the possibilities! ”

As a liquid, venom could be manipulated by a Fluid Caster; that was how Mazhar had been able to dehydrate it. It could also infect blood.

Had Iyal Mazhar discovered new applications using venom-infected blood? Had the Fluid Caster’s famous impatience led him to reckless experimentation?

Silas should have searched harder for Mazhar. If they used the tunnels to get back into the prison—

“Silas,” said Eliza’s quiet voice at his shoulder.

His hand jumped, adding a tail to one of his letters, but he continued scribbling out thoughts. They became harder to grasp with her nearness.

“Silas.” She gripped his arm, pointing up with her other hand. “Look.”

Kerem was on the first landing, speaking with Afshin. Then Afshin turned away, climbing back up the stairs toward his office, while Kerem continued down, as if headed for the library.

In a snap, Silas closed his journal and met his professor at the bottom of the stairs, ignoring the throbbing protests of his leg.

“Silas! You’re walking well.” Kerem glanced down at the injured leg, then nodded, apparently pleased. He gave a small wave off to the side, which must have been a greeting for Tulip.

“What happened to Yvette?” demanded Eliza before Silas could speak. She’d come up behind him again, quiet as a mouse.

Kerem’s expression fell. He adjusted his spectacles. “There’s no verdict yet. Afshin is understandably hesitant to lose another professor, so she’s being held by the guard while the examination continues. He’s asked me to fetch the Artifact we found with Havva’s daughter.”

“Where is Ceyda?” Silas asked.

The pause did not bode well.

“In the healing hall,” Kerem said at last. “By the time I found her, the tissue damage was extensive, and it’s a miracle she was still breathing, but she’ll likely lose her leg.

It may be the best-case scenario if that’s all she loses.

The Casters have her unconscious, and treatment is in their hands now. ”

A knot of guilt settled at the base of Silas’s throat. He hadn’t meant to encourage the cobra to aggressiveness—his only command had been to appear threatening—but his own stress must have bled into his magic.

As if sensing his guilt, Kerem rested a hand on his shoulder, waiting for Silas to look up before he said, “No Affiliate has perfect control every time. There are environmental factors we can’t manipulate, and animals will always have their own disposition and instincts.”

“But I put it there,” Silas said quietly.

“And suffered consequences as well,” Kerem said with a meaningful glance at his leg.

The guilt eased slightly, but it didn’t disappear.

“What did Ceyda tell you?” Eliza asked.

Kerem lowered his hand. “Her father was part of Iyl Yvette’s team for constructing the prison. He laid the tunnels beneath the kuveti stronghold, instructing his daughter to use the hidden room in an emergency. It’s possible he did so without Yvette’s knowledge. However . . .”

He trailed off uncomfortably, and Silas heard the unspoken.

Yvette was the strongest Stone Caster at the university, and her attention to detail was legendary. The idea that someone could lay a Cast directly under her nose was improbable at best.

“So she knew about the tunnels,” Eliza murmured in Loegrian. “That doesn’t prove she killed anyone in them.”

Silas looked at Kerem. “There’s more,” he prodded, “isn’t there?”

“It’s best to leave the details to Afshin. He’ll be thorough and fair in his inv—”

“Please,” said Silas.

Grimacing, Kerem shifted his weight. Finally, he said, “I went back to the tunnels and prison house, searching for Mazhar. I found a paper trail of arrests. All magic users. For weeks, the kuveti have been discreetly capturing targets and disposing of bodies under the employment of Yvette Sahin.” He held up a hand to forestall Eliza’s protest. “The kuveti may be amoral, but they are not unorganized. They keep careful record of who pays them.”

Just like that, Silas’s hope evaporated, leaving behind an empty hollow.

He had his conclusion.

And it was his worst fear.

When Kerem asked for the Artifact, Silas surrendered it without a word, but before the professor could return upstairs, Silas stopped him one last time.

“Iyal Mazhar?” he asked, dreading the answer.

Kerem shook his head. “I was too late.”