Page 21 of Tales of a Deadly Devotion (Tales of a Monstrous Heart, #2)

Sat in a column of shadow at one of the tables in the far corner, legs crossed and hands braced casually on his knees. As if this was no more than a hound race for coin in one of the lower arenas.

Montagor.

His dark uniform of the commander tight to his form, that horrid gleam in his dark eyes and the hint of amusement on his lips as he peered at me down his thin, regal nose.

‘I wasn’t aware you’d been granted Council robes, Montagor.’ Emrys stepped forward, arms gathered behind his back but I could see the tightness in his shoulders, how it strained his coat. The tension in Gideon’s jaw as he stood like a disapproving golden pillar at the other side of his brother.

‘As the leading defence against chaos magic and the rebellion, Montagor’s knowledge is imperative to the investigation,’ Ainsworth interjected, his smile too sharp with deceit.

‘To be held in a higher regard than a founding house?’ Emrys asked, not removing his eyes from Montagor. From the bastard son of the King. His brother in some regard.

That truth sent a cold chill down my spine. Then I understood why Montagor was a bastard too. Why the Council kept him so close.

Horror clawed at my insides. How unsettled Emrys was.

There wasn’t just one prince beneath the earth, and I feared Montagor was another summoning. The dark tongue Emrys had used in his presence.

‘When a member is accused of impropriety . Yes.’ Montagor practically preened, looking down at his nails with feigned boredom.

‘Shouldn’t you be busy investigating the western road?’ Gideon interjected coldly.

Montagor sat forward, his smile cruel at the challenge. ‘We already hanged twelve rebels at dawn. Fey are easy enough to catch. The true culprits … guilt will draw them from their nest soon enough. I’m sure.’

As if it were nothing but one of their grand hunts. A game to catch deer for a feast.

I felt that healing tonic threaten to crawl its way back up my throat.

‘However, we have more pressing matters. Such as a dead lord,’ Montagor continued, that smile never wavering. ‘Suspicious is it not, Miss Woodrow, how the destruction at Fairfax is so similar to the chaos that consumed Daunton’s estate? How peculiar that you were present for both events.’

I heard the mutter of the masters, felt the burn of Gideon’s suspicious gaze on the side of my face. Could do nothing, not even allow the brush of Emrys’s magic to calm me as fear pierced its talons into my heart.

Smoke filled my nose, bitter with the stench of burning flesh.

Murderer.

‘I’m certain I don’t need to remind the Council the punishment for wild magic. For lying to this Council under oath. I can assure you it’s far worse than a simple cleansing, Miss Woodrow,’ Montagor continued, relishing in what dregs of my fear he could sense.

The orbs that sat in the room remained white. Truth. Although I didn’t need the orb, I knew the price. It was death.

I ignored the thunder of my pulse and how my palms became slick with sweat. The trap they’d set and how I’d let my anger walk me right into the centre of it. Just as they predicted.

‘I’m not in possession of wild magic,’ I replied. Truth – but there was no relief to be found from it. Not when I knew I possessed something far worse.

Kysalor. Fire that eats the world. What lived in me wasn’t magic. It was too old to possess a name.

‘I’m also certain we can agree Daunton received what was deserved in the end.’ I kept my voice level, ignoring the bile that built at the back of my throat as his name slipped between my lips. ‘Death by fire is still the punishment for torturing beings with curse casting, is it not?’

There was no comfort in that truth. Not as I said those words aloud for the first time.

Admitted what he’d done. What I’d allowed him to do to me.

Felt the turbulent rage in Emrys’s magic.

Saw a few of those lanterns splutter out as if disturbed by a deadly wind.

The sun slipping deep behind clouds high above us.

Those scars on my back almost ached with the memory of it, as if I could feel the groove of each one he’d burdened me with.

I returned Montagor’s stare. I was finished with my fears. As I stood burdened with all the things I’d never said. The weight of my guilt like stones in my pockets.

I’d felt the pain of those fey. Saw their deaths. Tasted the foul tang of it. The bitterness of that fear that would never leave me.

I hadn’t saved them and everything in my blood would mourn them until I was no more.

Only fear can bind your hands. I’d allowed it to do more than bind my hands. I’d allowed it to gag and smother me. Drag me down into the foulness of cowardice.

Master Ainsworth cleared his throat impatiently. ‘Miss Woodrow—’

‘You wish to hear my testimony.’ I eyed the orb again, ignoring the sharp stab of my apprehension. Remembering every other time they’d subjected me to such things. The exhaustion and cruelty of it. ‘Did you seek Lord Percy’s under the watch of the Truth Seeker?’

‘As protocol dictates,’ Master Grima drawled, tapping his quill on the waiting parchment before him. The powder on his face congealing around his temples with his sweat. Unfortunately, the globe before him stayed a clear white with truth. ‘He had some … interesting allegations to report.’

‘Miss Woodrow is in no condition to—’ Master Hale began to interrupt.

‘Very well.’ My voice was a knife through his attempt to defend me. He’d never bothered before. Not here. Not as they’d clawed through my thoughts. Undeterred by my fear. By how small and lost I’d been.

It is what they need, Katherine . No matter that I was too young to have my mind dissected like it didn’t belong to me. Agreeing because my fear of what they’d take if I didn’t was greater.

I moved to the desk and pressed my palm to the glass orb. Never breaking the Council’s stare.

I felt Emrys’s lethal power simmer with displeasure from the distance between us. The lanterns dimming as Montagor’s smile grew cat-like out of the corner of my eye. Seeing me as a mouse in a trap. Probably expecting me to gnaw off my own limbs to escape.

Only I was their last mistake. They’d kept me too close. Let me see all their flaws and there was no escape for them. Not now.

‘This Council has been made aware of alarming allegations against yourself and your partner mage, Miss Woodrow. Lord Percy has stated—’

‘I think Lord Percy has forgotten, it was he who made illicit advances,’ I interrupted. ‘Heated comments I made relating to his impotency might have upset him.’

I watched the white smoke dance, listening to the hissed outrage move through the mages as if we were in the company of snakes.

Gideon let out a choked sound that I could only imagine was a laugh he’d been surprised by.

They began to splutter, seats creaking. Trying to deflect from things they couldn’t discuss. Lies they couldn’t keep.

‘Speaking of breaches. You bring us to the next point of contention , Miss Woodrow.’ Grima flipped through his short stack of parchment before he pulled another free to read.

‘The removal of a serving fey without authorisation from this Council. An indentured maid has been removed from these premises.’

No.

A churning, inescapable fear burnt through me. Taking me back in an instant to the small creature I’d been. Begging and whimpering for mercy.

Master Hale surged forward, meaty palm on the desk with outrage. ‘Miss Darcy has been working with Miss Woodrow for—’

‘The maid signed her agreement to the Council halls, Master Hale. Not your private house. Nor Miss Woodrow’s who, I will remind you, is unable to own property .’

Property.

Alma wasn’t their misplaced possession, nor their property.

‘The maid’s housing cost this Institute and she has not paid back the debt of it.’ Madame Bernard practically preened under my distress.

Alma never would be able to free herself. How could she when they didn’t pay her at all?

‘Miss Darcy’s debt to these halls has been paid by the Blackthorn accounts.’ Emrys’s voice didn’t sound his own. Too dark and tightly pressed with his anger. ‘It seems you’re behind with your records.’

My heart stuttered in my chest. Turning me foolishly towards him. The imposing form of him, just as he’d been the first time we’d stood before this Council.

His deadly stare focused on the Council who seemed to shift with unease under its might.

He’d paid for Alma’s freedom. When? Too many emotions ploughed through me. My heart pounding against my ribs.

Master Grima choked, rifling through his papers. ‘No agreement was made—’

‘You bound a child to an indenture and forged a guardian’s signature to make it so.’ Emrys’s furious gaze dragged over the bench, landing for a longer moment on Master Hale, who had gone quite pale. ‘Her boarding debts have been paid, so she is no longer your concern.’

Hale had never done that. No matter how close the Council had got to her. How many burns she’d acquired or abuse she’d endured from the maids. When exhaustion made her bones wary. He’d never once suggested it.

No matter how I’d begged in the end.

She’s safer with you, Katherine. No. He’d made her nothing but a chain to bolt me in place because Daunton had taught him one truth – I’d never leave her.

A strange hum began in the back of my skull as I sank further into my body. Allowing the sharpness of my magic to rise closer to the surface. A deadly calm settling over every inch of me. Reminding me of something this Council should never have forgotten – how deadly a Kysillian is when challenged.

‘ Taelacor .’ I straightened my spine, ignoring how it pulled at the base of my back. The ache of the old wounds awakened by everything I’d been forced to endure. The reminder of everything they’d allowed.

‘You dare invoke the—’ Master Grima began to stutter, only for Ainsworth to silence him with a raised hand.

Taelacor . Their saints’ word. An ancient demand for truth. To speak without interruption.

One they couldn’t challenge.