THIRTY-FOUR
Zarek strolled into the Sworn Exarch’s private dining room and sat at the table with his brothers. Assorted cakes and sliced fruits were displayed on platters as porcelain cups clinked and coffee was poured.
Angela had kissed him. And now he couldn’t stop thinking about her in the garden, wondering if she’d found a place in the sun or if she were walking the paths, trailing her fingers along the hedges.
His mind traitorously wouldn’t quit, imagining what it would be like to walk beside her, to share more of their stories and learn what else they had in common. Maybe lie on the grass the way he’d seen other members of the Vanguard do with their partners and just share the same space.
Firstly, Angela wasn’t his partner.
She couldn’t be.
The Accords were clear.
And the Continuum Council would never approve.
Even though the Sworn Exarchs had an amendment that allowed them to bring Angela from the mortal realm, it was still against the Accords for him to be with her.
The Continuum Council traced magickal bloodlines for compatibility, heritage, and lineage. Without a father’s name on her birth certificate, Angela had no documented magickal heritage. And a woman with no provable lineage was everything the Council stood against, on both counts.
And yet his magick had recognized hers before she was even aware she had any.
Awakened ash and alchemy. The words Bellus had murmured as he read from that ancient text echoed in Zarek’s mind, back when his magick had marked her, not even giving him, or her, a choice in the matter. And he hated it. Because he also wanted… her.
He took a sip of coffee, forcing his thoughts back to the present meeting.
“How is Angela this morning?” Martar asked, fiddling with the handle of his coffee cup.
Of course they wanted to talk about her.
“Better,” Zarek replied, his tone cool and controlled.
“Still in her room?”
“No. I showed her the walled garden. She’s taking a day off to be by herself.
” The words felt foreign on his tongue. Days off.
It had to be a mortal need, although after the rain room, the compulsion, the shield that deflected every test they’d thrown at her, he guessed Angela wasn’t entirely mortal at all.
“Magick is new to her; she needs the rest.” Even if she wasn’t resting by sleeping, because she was too scared to sleep.
Zarek took a sip of his bitter black coffee, wiping his mouth, already hearing the questions from their loud thoughts.
“Angela is very sorry for what she did. She didn’t know how or why she caused the rain and meant no harm.
” Her self-shame and horror for being able to compel people to spill their secrets he’d felt that.
“Has she done this before?” Rocharde asked, reaching for a slice of plum cake.
“Not that she’s aware of. Angela said she’s wished people a good day, that sort of thing—and thought nothing of it.
Until yesterday, she had never known it existed.
She’s more scared of herself, of causing harm, than anything else.
And…” Zarek sighed, rubbing his eyes. “I told her about the truth compulsion. Again, she wasn’t aware she did that either.
” He had kept too many secrets, and it was getting harder to keep them from her.
What would she say about the Claiming, especially if it might be affecting her beyond sharing each other’s emotions?
“You look tired, brother.” Martar kept toying with his coffee cup’s handle, turning it around and around on the saucer. “Is Angela still getting nightmares?”
“Yes. Last night’s was…” He dropped his elbow on the table and exhaled heavily, while shielding his eyes with his hand. Going to her aid then had not been the time for conversation, like he had with her earlier this morning.
“I may have a theory on that,” Bellus interjected timidly. Enough for Condorr to pause from wolfing down the pile of cake and fruit on his plate.
“Go ahead, Bellus,” Gellar urged, stroking his salt and pepper beard. “We’re all open to ideas.”
“If we can get Angela into a dream state,” Bellus blurted out quickly. “I think it would help her find out what she has, in the way of magick, like Rocharde mentioned before. And I did some research—”
“What? Put her to sleep? Helviti—no.” The dragon in his chest stirred, like liquid lava curling through his veins, causing the staves on his leathers to glow. Cursed staves. “Because of her nightmares, she’s too scared to go to sleep as it is.”
The terror he felt through their connection was horrific.
She’d wake gasping, shaking, with no memory of what had frightened her.
And how she’d cling to him while her bed and skin were slick with sweat, as her heart pounded against his chest. All he could do was hold her as she willingly soaked up his calming magick until her breath returned to normal.
It was killing her. And watching it was killing him.
“Maybe she’s meant to finish that nightmare.” Rocharde picked up his coffee cup. “I know we mentioned the Sleep Wizard before. That’s what they do.”
“What did you feel in the dream state?” Condorr brushed the crumbs from around his mouth.
“No pain. Not physically, anyway.” Rocharde shifted in his seat, letting his forearms rest on the table on either side of his plate. “My problem was I could never remember how or why I was having the nightmares. But it was the same one. Every time.”
“Did it work?” Martar asked.
“Yes. The nightmares I had as a boy were due to…” Rocharde paused as if looking for the right words. “My fear of the past, and my lack of power…”
“But you have the power to use gravity control, lock the veyll, and read memories,” Condorr interjected. “There are no boundaries to your gift.”
“I didn’t know I had any powers until I was in the dream state, as my magick came late to me,” Rocharde explained. “But under the guidance of the Sleep Wizard, who was with me the entire time, I dream-walked within that dreamscape. I wasn’t alone. And he didn’t judge me for what he saw.”
“Maybe the Sleep Wizard could help Angela, too,” Bellus said to Zarek.
“Were you hurt or in any danger while in the dreamscape, Rocharde?” Martar asked, clearly anticipating Zarek’s next question.
“No. I mean, once I played it out and I faced that fear, it answered all my questions. I was never harmed. And I never had a nightmare again.” Rocharde’s honesty was absolute.
He calmly picked up his cup and took another sip of his coffee.
“It might do your Angela Duboise some good, if she can’t sleep. ”
Zarek wanted to say no, to snarl at them for putting Angela through anything that might hurt her or unleash a terror that could leave her more broken than she already was.
But Angela would want answers too. She’d want to understand what she was. Magick School had failed her, and he was failing her by shielding her from testing by the most powerful they had—the men at this table.
“I think we should try it,” Gellar said. “What do you say, Zarek?”
“Me? No.” The dragon in his chest coiled tighter as he forcefully squashed the soft glow from activating his staves. “But I understand, too.” He sighed heavily as he faced the men he trusted and loved like brothers. “I’ll ask Angela to see if she agrees.”
“Be sure that you do.” Gellar seemed pleased as he added cream to his coffee, then stirred.
He tapped the spoon against the rim of his cup, then let it rest on the saucer.
“Bellus, speak with the Sleep Wizard to prepare for a guided dream-walk. Condorr, see the witches for a protection spell for the room. We’ll hold it on the far side of the Training Hall, in the outer area, so as not to affect the rest of the Keep. ”
“And what happens if Angela says no?” Zarek frowned with annoyance at how quickly they were moving forward.
“If you feared sleep, Zarek, wouldn’t you want to fix it?
” Gellar’s voice held no malice as he put his coffee cup down on the saucer.
“And I have a feeling Angela Duboise will want to seek answers to her own questions. This might help her. If it helped Rocharde discover his magick, it could help the cause. Don’t worry, we’ll do our best to ensure no harm comes to her at all. ”
“Bellus, hurry up and find a cure for this Claiming thing.” Zarek snarled with disgust at himself.
His fierce protectiveness and magick simmered beneath his skin, making the staves glow across his armor as they struggled to contain him.
Worse, now he had this foreign desire to walk beside her in the garden instead of drilling his warriors.
“Why couldn’t it be Martar to deal with this Claiming?
Martar would have the female washing his feet with their hair, and then he’d be back to work no different. ” And since when did he whine!
Helviti.
Everything about this Claiming was making Zarek different.
Martar chuckled beside him. “Because you’re the man of the hour.” He leaned closer, bumping shoulders. “A word from this wise old friend I have who he tells me regularly to just deal with it.”
“Hmph,” Zarek huffed.
But they were all thinking the same thing. They hoped Angela would agree to do this so they could learn what she could do. Her magick—this new power—might be their advantage in the war against Katarra.
What they didn’t say, and what hung unspoken in the air, was that word had spread throughout the Keep. The indoor rain in Magick School, built to stop all magic, had proved powerless against Angela. She’d effortlessly overridden the protections that had stood for centuries.
And people were talking.
It was only a matter of time before someone asked questions they couldn’t answer, especially when their own magickal testing had failed her.
“Are we going to have an issue with…” He couldn’t say it.
But Gellar understood. “We’ll keep this quiet. The Claiming. Her origins. All of it. The moment the Continuum Council learns we’ve brought a…” He didn’t need to finish.
They all knew what would happen.
The Council would scream breach of the Accords.
They’d demand Angela be tested, dissected, and studied like a specimen to determine if her power was pure enough to stay in Paradox where she was safe.
Only for them to learn she had no documented lineage, and was from the mortal realm with an unclassifiable magick that would fail their testing.
All while under the protection of the Captain of the Vanguard through the Claiming, even though the ancestors’ reprieve covered her entry into Paradox.
All of it could be twisted into a violation of the very laws they’d sworn to uphold, and everyone knew the Council manipulated the facts to suit their own agenda.
But acting on what the Claiming was pushing him toward would cost him more.
“Moving her studies to her chambers was the right call,” Gellar continued. “It protects her from gossip. Keeps prying eyes away and buys us time while she learns about her magick.”
Time to find out what she was and to prepare her for war?
It wasn’t fair to use her like a tool.
If Bellus found a cure for the Claiming, Zarek could go back to being the warrior he was supposed to be, instead of this thing that wanted to follow Angela into the gardens in hope of hearing her laugh.
“I’ll talk to her about the Sleep Wizard.”
Gellar nodded. “Good.”
Zarek stood, leaving his half-finished coffee on the table as the conversation and his rampant thoughts sat heavily in his chest.
He couldn’t lose control around Angela. She touched his hand, yes. And she’d kissed his cheek. Remembering the surge of heat that had flared between them.
But she had never seen him at full force or witnessed what his power could do when it slipped its leash. Buildings reduced to ash. Stone melted into glass. And people burned in horrific ways.
He was a nuclear explosion waiting to happen that he had to keep under constant control.
Except now, the Claiming made his magick more volatile as it grew more possessive of her.
If he lost control around her, and if the dragon inside woke fully and she was caught in the blast—he’d destroy her. And that terrified him more than anything Katarra and his Black Cloaks could ever do.