Page 110 of The Moorwitch

“Did he send you here to kill me?” he asks.

“No! In fact, if I fulfill my mission, he’s sworn that you and Sylvie—”

“Sylvie!” He whirls, and the door creaks and slams against the wall; the drapes around the bed and windows gust as if on a strong wind. Sparks dance from the fire and skitter over the carpet, singeing the fibers where they land.

“Conrad, be careful! You’re channeling—”

“What of Sylvie?” he demands. “What business does he have with her?”

I open my mouth to tell him how I found her with Lachlan only this morning, but then clamp my teeth together. That will only makehim lose control completely; he’ll burn up this room and Ravensgate itself, all that wild magic rushing into his veins. I have to calm him down, get him to release it safely. My hands fumble for a spool from my pocket, but he knocks it away as he advances on me. I back up until I hit the wall, and he looms terribly, his eyes burning with golden heat, his teeth bared.

“Tell me what he wants with Sylvie.”

“Nothing!” I say. “He swore to not harm her or you if I bring him a branch of the Dwirra Tree by midnight. Don’t you see? We could set you free for good!”

He lets out a short breath and steps back, still staring at me as if I’d stabbed him. The room settles slightly, the candle flames still fluttering but the drapes falling still.

“A branch from the Dwirra. Why? How does that help him?”

“He said it would restore his power. And, Conrad, if he dethrones Morgaine, you and Sylvie will be free. You won’t be the Gatekeeper anymore. You can leave this place.”

“And you trust this creature to keep his word?” He says it as though I would be a fool to do so, and I suppose I have proved myself to be no more than that. But I nod anyway. What other choice do I have?

“Help me,” I whisper, my heart pulsing as though Lachlan were listening in on us now, approving my words. I feel like a puppet as I step forward—his hands lift my hands in supplication; his whisper in my ear softens my gaze; his magic pulls a tear from my eye and sends it rolling down my cheek.

“We can all be free,” I say. “If you’ll just help me.”

Sweat dampens his collar. His face, his neck, even his lips have gone pale, those lovely, soft lips which only minutes ago had been about to open to mine.

How terribly the wicked truth cuts; how mightily it transforms.

He will do it, I think. He will see the same path I see, leading us all out of this land of fae and duty and curses. Together we will find our way out.

But then, “No,” he says. “You understand nothing. Not about me or Sylvie or Morgaine or the Briar King. He is not trustworthy. And Morgaine is not the monster you think she is. And Sylvie ...” He shakes his head. “No.”

“Conrad!”

“Enough!” he roars, and suddenly he channels into a knot he had hidden in his pocket. Somehow he’d woven it there, one handed, while I was too distracted to notice.

It’s an immobilization spell, oneItaught him, and it pins me to the wall, my hand slamming into the wainscoting. A brass sconce unfurls to wrap around my wrist and hold it fast above my head. The other is seized by a peeling of wood trim from the mantel, secured wide from my body. The magic releases then, but though I can twist and buck, I cannot pull my hands free.

He watches me struggle with a strange look on his face, half fury, half regret. Perhaps there is a part of him which does believe me, but it is not strong enough.

“What is his plan?” he asks.

“I don’t know! He tells me so little. Put a truth knot on me if it will convince you.”

He shakes his head, his eyes going to the window and the black velvet moors.

“When you get yourself free,” he murmurs, “you should leave. This time, I mean it, Rose. Get away from this house.”

“But—”

“You don’t understand, do you?” He looks back at me, his eyes agonized. “What you’ve done, what you’ve cost me? I put myself on the line for you. I gave her my word.”

I stare at him. “What do you mean?”

“I must go to Morgaine,” he says. “If the Briar King has been behind our defenses this long, she needs to know. She needs time to prepare.”