Page 20 of Tales of a Deadly Devotion (Tales of a Monstrous Heart, #2)

Chapter Twelve

Kat

The sanctity of the grand halls should never be breached, nor any harm befall the mages who defend the purity of magic. To save it from the corruption of beneath. From beings with little control, who bring chaos and entice the world to fall back into the way it should never have been.

Those warnings had been written in dusty texts by fools.

Lords who knew nothing of fey magic and cared little for anything but themselves and what they could take, what profit could be made or how high they could rise.

The stories they could spin and lies they could tell to justify the murder of magic and the beings it belonged to.

I fidgeted with the high collar of my dress, making sure it covered the bite mark at my neck, the pale scar I’d glimpsed in the mirror as Alma did my hair, vicious and ugly with how it pulled at the thin skin there.

The lace at the collar of my dress was severe, making the golden hue of my skin stand out. I ran my hands over my skirts, anything to keep them busy as I followed the large forms of Emrys and Gideon as we moved through the hallway.

The echo of the hunter’s footsteps matched my panicked heartbeat. Like a war drum.

The Council portal door was waiting, making me wonder how the hunters had managed to open it.

From Emrys’s tense form, it was a shared thought.

He’d pulled on his coat and buttoned up his shirt but the air of wildness still hung around him as we passed through the portal doorway.

It littered my skin with the familiar sting of the strange magic but our steps didn’t falter as we moved through the curved hallways, the clicking of our boots against the sterile marble.

The Institute.

So much hatred lingered here. How they hated me for knowing too much. Ignoring that they’d locked me away for half my life with nothing else to do but learn.

Disregarded my voice and only made me strive to be louder so maybe they would listen.

Perhaps I was a monster, but I was what they made me.

I ignored the depictions of the past mages on the portrait-filled walls.

Their white robes and golden spell books.

Carried on past the depictions of the ancient beasts they slaughtered, listening to the whispered mutterings of the students who lingered.

The mages finishing their classes paused at the sight of me and the maids scurried away as they always had.

I’d walked this hallway before, scared and burdened with guilt. Constantly glancing over my shoulder, waiting to disappear like all the others before me. Another victim to this world, a body for an unmarked pit, a lesson for other fey to learn.

I breathed in the harsh bitter saint smoke that lingered in the air after their morning prayers, letting it stoke the painful rage in my gut.

Lies. That voice hissed in the back of my mind. Just more lies.

A darkness crept into the side of my vision, a weakness crawling up my thighs, threatening to buckle my knees, but I kept my focus on the broad expanse of Emrys’s back as we reached the mage’s doors and the hunter turned on his heel to give orders.

‘You’ll give us a moment.’ Gideon smiled tightly, as he fixed the cuff of his pristine sleeve at my side. The hunter gave a moment’s pause before nodding to his men, then moving through the chamber doors with relaxed ease.

Gideon waited only a second for the door to close before he whirled on me, reaching into his coat pocket and pulling out a vial filled with the familiar iridescent liquid of a healing syrup.

‘Drink it before you collapse,’ he commanded, forcing it into my hand.

‘She’s just had one.’ Emrys interjected.

Gideon glowered at him. ‘Calm down. A second tonic clearly won’t maim her, and let’s remind ourselves she should still be in fucking bed.’

‘I’m feeling better,’ I countered, ignoring his disbelieving glance and the fact I sounded like a petulant child before I did as he said. Hating the numbness the syrup left on my tongue.

Gideon – satisfied I wasn’t in mortal peril due to my own foolishness – turned his annoyance on his brother, a gloved finger pointed in accusation.

‘Montagor is up to something.’ His words were quiet, not wasting a moment of breath.

‘We’ll worry about that later,’ Emrys sighed, running a hand through his hair, stormy grey eyes surveying me quickly for any harm. As if some great injury could have befallen me on the short walk here.

‘ Later ?’ Gideon snapped dubiously, claiming his brother’s attention once more. ‘I doubt they’ve ordered a summons to serve us tea and fucking scones, Emrys !’

‘I’m well aware of that,’ Emrys growled back as the shadows that lingered in the corridor lengthened in response to his dark anger.

Gideon, however, was not deterred. This was a darkness he knew all too well.

Understood better than me. How Emrys could walk the very fine line between Verr and lord. Blurring the two together seamlessly.

‘There is something you aren’t telling me, brother.’

Emrys’s jaw was tight with irritation, his eyes moving over his brother’s features. Trying to give himself time. Of course. He couldn’t lie.

‘Don’t play the fucking mute, Emrys ,’ Gideon seethed, stepping closer until their boots touched. I could see the wariness in his eyes, the concern. ‘Answer me.’

‘Later,’ I cut in, making the brothers ease apart with the command that had no weight in it. Gideon turned his glower on me but the stone around my neck fluttered in panic, barely giving me time to prepare.

‘Katherine,’ came the breathless worried words of Master Hale behind me.

I turned, either out of habit or surprise, but any other emotions were stuttered as his pale sickly fingers curled around my wrist too quickly. ‘What are—’

I looked at his familiar grubby navy robes, wiry beard and sallow skin with those deep laugh lines etched into it.

Liar. A dark voice hissed, reminding me of the path that had led me here. Led me to my own death, a sharp phantom pain slicing into my neck where the mark of that bite remained. My breath caught and as if he could hear it, I felt Emrys’s magic rise in response.

I pulled myself out of Hale’s hold, too weak and panicked to contain me as I stumbled back, only to be steadied by Emrys.

‘Katherine?’ Deep concern laced Master Hale’s words. Worry that turned my stomach.

Suddenly the hallway was too big and small at the same time. The air close and my magic too ravenous. Only there was no satisfaction with the surprise that flickered across the old man’s expression. Not as my anger simmered so close to the surface.

‘What have you done to her?’ Hale demanded, looking me over with furious concern. As if I was a book that had been borrowed and returned with torn and creased pages.

‘What did you do?’ I demanded back before Gideon or Emrys could answer. My voice a hollow thing cutting through the space between us. Watching him take a step back from me. The first time he ever had. As if I was a stranger, a changeling in his midst.

Nothing. That dark voice mocked. He did nothing. Not as those fey had died, not here or in Fairfax’s land. Not as the Council mocked and trapped me here. Not as I cowered under his mercy for the grace of letting me simply exist.

Suddenly I didn’t know if it was that healing tonic or the viciousness of my own anger. I pushed past him, straight for the Council doors.

‘Katherine—’ Hale called but I ignored him, striding into the main chamber, finally ready to be rid of it all. The assistants struggled to catch the door as it banged against the panelled wall. The chatter was silenced instantly, only the dramatic scrape of chairs and rustle of pages remaining.

They gathered as they always had behind their desks. Ainsworth at the centre, his hateful glare relentless as always. They sat in a semi-circle as if around a stage awaiting a performance.

It seemed I was finally ready to perform.

‘Council men, I believe you wish to speak with me,’ I addressed the room, taking my place at its centre, lacing my hands carefully before me.

Then came the press of Emrys’s magic, a solid comfort at my back, cool and authoritative. I wasn’t alone. Not anymore. Yet despite my boldness, the childish fear of these old men remained, clinging to me like morning mist.

‘Your presence was requested two days ago, Miss Woodrow,’ Master Ainsworth reprimanded, spittle flying from his chapped lips. ‘The disobedience of your dallying cannot go—’

‘A studying mage under partnership is allowed three days to respond to summons.’ My interruption was sharp, making him choke on the rest of his words. ‘Under the Investigation Act, 1812.’

‘Blackthorn assured us your absence was necessary ,’ Master Grima interrupted, flushed with his surprise at my presence, or at Master Ainsworth’s rage – I couldn’t tell.

I saw the trap, the pristine silver robes, the milky eyes of the creature that sat at the end of the table as that orb sat before them. The pink scarring at their throat from the markings to worship their saint that would go all the way up across their bald scalp hidden beneath their hood.

The Truth Seeker.

The reason for the audience. For the hunters. It was all a performance. To make an example of a fey who pulled too far on their leash. A Truth Seeker to pry words from my lips.

‘Lord Blackthorn was gracious enough to grant me time to recover.’ I nodded respectfully. ‘I’m certain he’s provided you with sufficient information in my absence.’

Something moved out of the corner of my eye. Dark and swift, turning my attention to the large arched windows, draped with their banners. Nothing there. My heart began to race, the grip on my own fingers painful as my nails dug into flesh.

Emrys’s magic grew cold and vicious as if sensing my distress. Curling around my waist as if to pull me back but I didn’t go.

Here . A dark voice mocked, whispering against the shell of my ear. Turning me a bit further until I saw it. The warning came too late.