Page 69 of Soulbound

"We won," Sebastian whispered, as if he were sensing her thoughts. "Morgana and her coterie of sorcerers fled. Only thirteen sorcerers died, and the rest are being treated by the Order's healers. Ianthe's taking charge."

None of it mattered.

She saw again the demon enter her father, and shivered. Give me the child he cannot....

What did it mean? A demon... sired me. There was a horrible, horrible feeling inside her. She'd seen something about this in Farshaw's book, she was certain of it.

She cried for a long time, feeling the stroke of his hand down her spine as he rocked her. And then she finally gave in to exhaustion, her forehead slumping against his shoulder, where she could feel the beat of his heart through her palm.

* * *

Everything hurt.

Cleo blinked slowly, the intense stab of the afternoon light making her wince. She could barely see.

"I'll draw the curtains," a woman murmured, and then the blaze of light vanished, leaving her able to breathe again.

Cleo tried to sit up, her throat dry and her head thumping.

"Here," a man murmured, his arm sliding behind her, as he pressed a glass of water to her lips.

Sebastian. Cleo nearly choked on the water. "What are you doing here?"

Watching the other woman like a hawk, it seemed. He eased the glass away from her, his body shockingly warm. "You've been sleeping for nearly three days," he said tightly. "I've been trying to call you back to me, through the bond."

A bond that was intricately stronger, she noted, brushing against it... and flinching. "Ouch."

"Yes, 'ouch,'" said the older woman who pushed away from the windows, her silver hair swept up into an elegant chignon. "You foolish child. Where on earth did you learn to future-walk? Have you any idea of how dangerous it was to blindly go forth, without learning even the basics?"

"Yes, I knew how dangerous it was!" Cleo retorted. "I didn't have a choice. I'm no match for Morgana, and none of my powers are offensive ones—at least, not yet. I was trying to protect my husband."

That earned her a steady look. Oho, Sebastian didn't like that, did he? Cleo glared back at him. "Which I wouldn't have had to do, if he'd been thinking rationally, rather than trying to murder his mother the first chance he got." She flung back the blankets, realized she was wearing a thin cotton nightgown, and tugged them back over herself again, blushing fiercely.

Sebastian leaned back in his armchair, his arms crossed over his chest, as if to dare her to cast her blankets aside again. No doubt as payback for her comment about his mother.

Oh, yes, my dear. Do grant me a glimpse of those shapely calves....

Cleo looked between the two of them, touching her temples lightly. Was that her thought? Or was she actually hearing his? It felt like their auras brushed against each other, now he'd lowered the shields he'd kept up against her. "Who are you?"

"Madrigal Brown," the woman said, leaning on her cane like a silver-haired hawk. "Sorcerer of the Seventh Level, Foreseer, and Mistress of the Sicarii."

Sicarii? The heat washed out of Cleo's face. The assassins protected the Order and the Prime—at all costs.

And it suddenly terrified her that they might see Sebastian as a threat.

"Madrigal's the only other Foreseer in the Empire," Sebastian murmured, his hand coming to rest over hers.

Almost... protectively.

"She's not going to hurt you," he pointed out. "She and I have reached an agreement. She's going to help teach you how to control your powers."

Yes, but what about him? He'd let a demon use his body, after all.

And you have some part of the demon within you. She went cold and locked down her end of the bond.

Sebastian looked at her sharply.

"I have been told you've not truly been taught your sorcery. You've never truly served an apprenticeship, though technically you wear three rings. I am offering to grant you a true apprenticeship, where I will teach you everything I know."