Page 47

The clearing was still this morning while Elizabeth wove her way through the stones. Herne sat on his usual tuft of verdant green grass that winter had never seemed to touch. Even though the rest of the clearing boasted of a coating of fresh, pristine snow, that patch was unblemished.

Herne appeared to care less why his favourite bed was green and not affected by the season while he nibbled on the grass that grew around him—another curiosity.

He often ate from that very spot, yet the offerings were always abundant.

Given the location near the stones, the presence of magic in some form or fashion should be expected, but that it lent itself to maintain Herne’s existence was a rather astonishing circumstance in itself.

As she neared the altar, she brushed her fingers over the top, something she had done many times.

She and Fitzwilliam had been awaiting any hint of this person coming, and thus far, except for the snow, the stones’ rumblings had not increased.

But the altar was humming stronger today.

This had been the entire reason for her visit.

With the fresh dusting of snow, she had been drawn to the stones.

She steeled herself and closed her eyes for a moment while she continued to stroke the altar. When her hand reached the middle, a jolt of power surged through her, making her fall onto the large stone.

“When I learnt of your existence, I sought to prevent you from claiming your full potential, but you thwarted me. But that has come to naught, and you are now nothing to me. Bow before me, descendant of Merlin! ”

Her hands pressed against the altar as she attempted to push herself off, but the energy coursing through her would not allow her to escape. What was this? Why was it keeping her tied to the stone?

Fitzwilliam had gone riding this morning, but he would come at any moment. They were to meet here then call on Longbourn.

She squeezed her eyes shut and attempted to heave herself free. Behind her eyelids, colours swirled until they coalesced into an image of the gardens at Longbourn. Fitzwilliam stood before her, a cloudy spiral stretching from his chest to a small hand. He was limp while a cackle filled the air.

“He should not have tried to protect you. Now, his power will join the others.”

With a cry, she forced herself from the stone, landing on all fours upon the hard ground. Her breath rushed in and out in gasps while she shook herself.

“No!” She inhaled in a great heave in an effort not to sob. Fitzwilliam would not sacrifice his life—his power—for her.

She prised herself from the ground and stumbled down the well-worn path towards Longbourn. She had to speak to Papa. Something had to be done! Fitzwilliam could not die!

Small branches slapped her cheeks as she ran without heed through the forest. When she reached the field, she did not look back but continued forward as fast as her legs could carry her to the hedgerow that separated the fields from the gardens. Longbourn!

No sooner had she slipped through the gap in the hedges than a bright light flashed from the side of the house.

“Papa!” Her father was powerful, but whoever this was had to be stronger. Why else would she have experienced residual effects from mere visions of their battle?

When she rounded the side of the house, her father stood tall and strong, his arm outstretched while he attempted to push back the cloud inching towards him .

The spell he had been fighting dissipated, but he continued to stare at his opponent. Elizabeth let her eyes stray from him to where a frail young lady stood near the brick wall that separated that part of the gardens from the orchard behind it.

“Ah, the lady I came all this way to see. When I called at Netherfield, they said you were here. Your father refused to tell me where you might be, so I thought to persuade him to reveal you. Now that you are here, I have no need of him anymore.”

Instead of balking, Elizabeth strode forward so she was at a better angle to engage the woman before her. “Who are you?”

The lady was exceedingly pale and wore dark circles under her eyes. She was not well, yet she had some sort of power. Had she become a full mage when she stole the duke’s powers as well as those of her first victim?

“You do not know of me? Has Fitzwilliam never mentioned my name?”

Elizabeth’s body gave a slight start. “You know Fitzwilliam?”

“Since we were children. My mother and his planned our union while we were in our cradles until an upstart like you captured his attention.”

A chill overtook her. “You are Miss Anne de Bourgh.”

The lady’s lips curved ever so slightly. “I am. And you stole what was rightfully mine, so I have come to take that and more from you.”

“I do not understand. I was born an heir, but you have powers too. Were you born an heir as well?”

Anne cackled, which caused gooseflesh to crawl up Elizabeth’s spine. “No, I was born with a talent, like most women. However, my ability is the power to strip another human of their magic.”

“The Duke of Norfolk,” said Papa. “ You were the one. . .”

“Yes; that was most unfortunate. He was a great friend of my father’s.

Did you know that? The duke always suspected more existed to my father’s death than my mother claimed, and he never ceased investigating what occurred that night.

He had come close to discovering the truth, and I could not allow that to happen. ”

Papa took a step closer. “What is the truth?”

After shrugging, Anne glanced down at her fingernails. “That when I was five, I drained him. He was the first person I stripped of their magic. Of course, I did not know what I was doing at the time. My father was not a good man and was about to hit my mother. I did what had to be done.

“After, my mother panicked and claimed he had an apoplexy. I was too young to argue and was overwrought. Yet, now that I am older, I understand what I did had been necessary. My father had to die.

“From that point on, my mother and I have sought to keep my ability from becoming common knowledge. Can you imagine what fear that would cause?”

“A woman who can steal the magic of others and possibly wield it,” said Papa. “You could be imprisoned if not killed for what you have done. Those who have used their magic for evil have been sent to Bedlam for less.”

Anne tossed her head back with her next cackle. “If they can subdue me. You cast your spells against me. They did little, did they not?”

Papa clenched and released his jaw at Anne’s words.

Elizabeth had done no more than glance at her father and caught his response; indeed, what she had witnessed upon her arrival verified Anne’s magic was difficult for Papa to fight.

But Papa’s magic had little effect against her? How was that possible?

“You need not answer,” said Anne. “Your response tells me all I need to know. That is all well and good. Once I have drained your daughter of her magic, I shall take yours. Fitzwilliam will have little choice but to take me as his wife once I hold so much power. ”

“No man is meant to wield so much of the earth’s magic.” Papa’s tone held a warning.

A chilling grin overtook Anne’s wan face.

“I am no man, Mr. Bennet. And I have been waiting and biding my time for this very moment. My mother attempted to stop me, but how was she to do so? She wields no true power. After all, she required a potion to convince Mr. Collins to assist us in our plan; not that he did as he was told.”

“What plan do you speak of?” Other than removing her as Fitzwilliam’s betrothed, was some other scheme afoot?

“We intended for you to come to Rosings. At some point, you would come to the house for tea, and we would then take your magic.” Her grin widened into almost a terrifying skeletal visage.

“It would be such a shame. Poor Mrs. Collins, the lady who ate some strawberries and choked to death. Your fool of a husband would be none the wiser, and I would possess the power of Merlin’s heir. ”

“But I could not marry my cousin since I was already promised to yours.”

“Yes, and now I must remedy that. I do not mind, though. This way, I shall take the magic of two Bennets.” Anne threw both arms forward as a white cloud burst from where her thumbs touched.

Ceilt! Elizabeth threw up hers to shield herself with the charm and at the same time, spun.

The white haze ricocheted off her crossed arms and hit a holly tree. The dark green foliage withered in front of her and browned, the spell draining its life under their appalled gazes.

“Take care, Lizzy. She is powerful, but she continually throws whatever ability she has. I do not believe she has any other magic.”

“Shut your mouth, old man!” Anne flung her arms in his direction, but he shielded himself as well. This time, the spell rebounded to the ground, leaving a spot bare of grass in its wake .

Dúr! Elizabeth twirled to the side as soon as she cast the charm in Anne’s direction in case the lady turned her ability back on her. The binding spell hit Anne square in the chest and seemed to work, but Anne closed her eyes and held her breath before she burst free.

“Is that all you possess? You are pathetic.” Anne crowed and stepped closer.

“When I learnt of your existence, I sought to prevent you from claiming your full potential, but you thwarted me. All that has come to naught since you are now nothing to me. Bow before me, descendant of Merlin!” Anne threw up her arms. This was it!

This was what Elizabeth had seen in the altar!

“ Stiúdú!” Elizabeth made to shift to the side in an attempt to avoid Anne’s spell, but when she stood facing the woman once more, a knife was embedded into her shoulder.

Her head spun. Dur! She tried to spin around and out of the way of another spell coming her way, but she stumbled.

Her vision blurred. Pairilis ! A sudden searing pain radiated through her. She gritted her teeth.

“No!”

The shout was Papa’s. Light bounced around before her, but she could make out little and she could not move. Countercurses! She needed a countercurse! Bogadh ! That released a binding spell, but she still could not move. It had not worked! How could you counter a curse with no known incantation?

Her surroundings became more visible, but she could do naught.

She was trapped in a sparkling white web while pain shot from her shoulder and through her body in waves.

The dagger in her shoulder surely had some sort of potion meant to weaken her.

Meanwhile, the spell squeezed mercilessly while she struggled to draw air.

How was she to defend herself against this?

Múscail!

That released a stunning spell but also did not work in this instance .

Beware to the magician who seeks more magic than the earth is willing to provide. A high price is to be paid by those who covet the power of others.

She had read that passage what seemed like years ago at this moment.

During the remainder of their time in the cottage, she and Fitzwilliam had pored over how many books in an attempt to find more—to discover precisely what that meant.

But how could it help her? Now, here she was, no closer to discovering what she needed than before.

Ròiseal! From deep within her, the magic began to build.

She had never attempted this charm before as it took a vast amount of power to cast. Her father had even warned her that attempting this particular spell would deplete her of magic and require a lengthy recovery after, but at this time and place, she had nothing to lose.

She would die if she did not do something!

But would the charm even work now while she was being drained of magic?

The force inside her grew and grew. Since she had never used this magic, she had only a hint of an idea of what would occur in theory.

Pain was unavoidable, but Anne’s spells had become unbearable. She had to try!

When the wave of magic that had been building finally burst from her flesh, she screamed at the moment the blast radiated out from her.

“Elizabeth!”

Fitzwilliam’s cry was barely audible over the boom of the surge spell she had cast.

His cousin’s hold on her wavered enough for Elizabeth to regain her footing—Anne had been forced back a few steps. But instead of knocking her over as had happened with her father and Fitzwilliam, Anne jumped back and threw her arms forward.

“You bitch! ”

The cloudy tendrils shot out with more force and encircled Elizabeth, forcing the air from her lungs.

Searing pain coursed through her as the energy ebbed from deep within her.

Light flashed before her, but from where it originated, she could not tell.

She was too weak to make the attempt at even turning her head.

The pain of the vision had been real, yet only a modicum of the excruciating agony she now experienced.

Her flesh burned and stung while her insides twisted and pushed at her as though they were attempting to free themselves.

This was it. She was going to die. They had done all they could to prepare for this eventuality, but all their plans had come to naught.

The beautiful vision of Fitzwilliam rubbing her belly swollen with their child would never happen. Would he be forced to marry his cousin?

Silver burst in all directions, but she could no longer hold her eyes open. They fluttered closed and she succumbed into nothing.