Chapter Nine
In The Mages’ Codex of Behaviour I’d outlined two of the most important rules: order and perfection – the two things that I found severely lacking as I entered Blackthorn’s study. Despite whatever favour he owed Master Hale, I hadn’t anticipated he’d actually want to teach me anything, that his mentorship would be a distant and hollow thing just to keep the Council at bay.
However, the lord was very much present as he strode the vast comely halls of his manor, leading the way. The arched green doors of the study were hidden at the end of a maze of endless shadowy corridors, almost willing you to get lost. A similar room to the library, the space was a mess of unfinished papers, potion bottles, wonky shelves and imposing bookcases that seemed to open passageways that led deeper into the room.
Enormous, latticed windows covered the far wall overlooking Blackthorn Forest, and an impressive fireplace dominated the space between bookshelves. Large ornate lamps hung from the walls, held by golden talons that formed hooks. The air was filled with the scent of burnt candles and the remnants of wax stuck to the wooden surfaces.
‘Your desk.’ He indicated to the only clear surface in the room – a large dark wooden desk with legs carved so that each looked like a phoenix taking flight. Mages used to take great pride in their desks, the place they created their spells, selecting a creature from the earth to symbolise their character and bless their work.
At least that’s what they used to do. Now, most of the mages at the Institute had a plain, gilded desk. No trace of the earth that they had stolen their magic from now that it was sterile.
‘I’ve gathered some more papers and cases for your consideration,’ Emrys continued effortlessly, as if he hadn’t given me an incredible gift. Moving to another desk, the floor around it stacked high with so many books I couldn’t see what creature was carved onto its legs. There appeared to be another in the far corner of the room that was in worse condition than his.
‘It’s beautiful.’ I ran my fingertips over the smooth wood, the dark red leather top, worn with time and use.
‘It was my sister’s,’ he replied quietly, beginning to root through the drawers of his desk. ‘Her name was Emmaline.’
The mysterious dead sister. I wouldn’t lower myself to listen to gossip; anything I trusted about this man would have to come from my own observations. So, as I looked at him, all I could see was the dark sadness of grief lingering in his gaze before he pulled off his jacket to drape it over the back of the chair.
‘I’m sorry.’
‘It was a long time ago.’ He busied himself by rolling up the sleeves of his white shirt to reveal toned forearms. Streaks of pale scars marring the surface, but clearly not affecting the strength of the muscle beneath.
Then I realised I was staring.
‘I’ll have to try and memorise the way,’ I observed stupidly as an excuse to look back at the large green doors, whose paint had begun to crack with age.
‘There wouldn’t be much point. This is where the study has chosen to be today. It must have thought I needed the exercise.’ He turned to lean back against his desk, arms folded to consider me.
Then I remembered the table moving of its own accord to lose my hairpin, how the hallway had shifted that first night. The house clearly had a mind of its own.
My mother had told me stories of magical houses, of rooms being charmed so they were harder to discover, bank vaults and even the King’s bedchamber, but never a study. Which only made me wonder what the Blackthorns of the past had been up to.
‘What theories have you been working on?’ he asked abruptly, startling me back into the present.
‘A cure for saltorvarious pox.’ A complex and deadly disease, foolish perhaps, but it was a small debt I owed my mother’s memory.
He frowned, clearly surprised by the impossibility of my self-imposed study.
‘It took my mother’s life,’ I added quietly. The moment mortals carried fey children their blood was affected, enough to leave them vulnerable. Her illness was deemed her own fault for debasing herself with my father, so no help came.
He seemed to contemplate that for a moment, his expression giving nothing away, but I could have sworn his eyes darkened ever so slightly. ‘I’d be interested to see them.’
Hesitantly, I crossed the space between our desks and reached into my small bag, finding the notes tucked at the bottom next to my father’s sword hilt, holding the file out to him, watching the flare of something cross his features – surprise, perhaps – before he hid it again behind his cool indifference.
‘Are you always so prepared?’ He plucked the file from my hands and opened it effortlessly.
‘Yes.’
‘Do you have any other unsavoury past times I should be informed of? Or are they limited to snooping? Or summoning demons in the Fifth Library?’
‘Such as the study of necromancy?’ I raised a brow, catching his attention once more. ‘I believe interest in such things to be frowned upon?’
‘How could you tell?’ That ghost of a smile came to his lips again.
‘Beasam bark. It has a distinct smell,’ was all I offered, knowing it probably wasn’t wise to disclose just how much I knew about forbidden texts. Another crime the Council would be only too happy to accuse me of.
‘It can be used in other spells.’ The hint of a challenge crept into his tone, making me stand a little straighter.
‘Not on this occasion. The Book of Mort gave you away.’ I smiled, remembering the tattered compendium that lay on the cluttered table in the library.
There was the slightest twitch at the corner of his mouth before it vanished as something shifting in his expression. Focus caught on a page of my notes.
‘You’ve been studying Lux Theory.’ His attention shot to my face, eyes bright once more, crystalline almost.
‘It helps when working through the poisons, and in finding which incantations can be used to balance dark matter,’ I replied calmly, confused by his interest. ‘They have the same rhythm encased in the spell. I’ve been using it on dark herbs to extract their energy. The saltorvarious strain began as a curse after all.’
I moved closer to point out the section of my notes where I’d documented the change. ‘I found the strongest part of the incantation and inverted it instead, so the poison becomes the opposite of what it was intended to be. It’s an old theory from one of Amrock’s …’
I glanced up to see if he was following but he wasn’t looking at the notes or my finger as it dragged across the page.
No, he was looking right at me.
Those strange, stormy eyes filled with sharp intensity, as if seeing me for the first time. That harshness in his features faded. Those scars seemed less brutal, his expression softer as that dark hair fell across his brow.
Being what I was, I had been on the receiving end of all kinds of looks in my life, but nobody had ever looked at me the way he did at that moment. As if he couldn’t fathom if I was real. Yet in a moment, it was gone.
As if remembering himself, he straightened, looking back at the page between us. ‘You’re using poison in your healing?’
‘Well, it’s …’ I struggled to find the words, unsettled by his attention as I retreated back to my own desk, quickly taking a few items from my bag: The Myths of Shadow , and notebooks I still needed to make sense of. ‘It’s based on Sorcerer Amrock’s studies.’
‘The bastard son of a witch?’ sharp amusement coating his words, making my pen box slip from my fingers, clattering loudly against the leather-top.
The gossip Alma had told me began to echo around my head. It would make sense if he was the son of a witch, the way his eyes appeared to change colour with his mood and the intensity of his stare, like he could hear every word in my head.
I really bloody hoped he couldn’t.
‘His magic was powerful, most of his theories were destroyed, apart from the few notes that survived. I copied his method with great success.’ I shrugged, turning back to him and trying to seem impervious, which only appeared to amuse him more.
‘Amrock wrote his tales in earth languages, but all his theories were coded,’ he countered as he flicked through my notebook with ease.
This was normal – partner mages were supposed to share information on their studies – but I’d never done it before, and my skin felt tight with both embarrassment and shame. I’d have an easier time standing here in my undergarments than have this man examining my private research.
‘You’ve translated it.’ There was a sharpness to his eyes as they came back to my face, settling on my lips in anticipation of a lie in my explanation.
‘ Exilian might be a difficult language, but it’s close enough to Kysillian,’ I countered. It wasn’t that much of a marvel; anyone with a brain could see the similarity.
‘It’s a dead language,’ he pressed. ‘A dead language where the only remaining record was written phonetically by a madman.’
‘Nothing is truly dead when it comes to fey magic,’ I challenged, unwilling to accept his praise.
‘I’ve been trying for five years.’ There was a glint in his dark eyes that looked oddly like admiration, before he thankfully looked to the papers again, so my heart had a chance to settle.
A shy tapping on the door made me turn to find William standing there, oddly straight backed, as if he’d decided to start wearing a corset.
‘Yes, William?’ Emrys asked without glancing in the boy’s direction.
‘A letter’s arrived in the fireplace.’ The boy shifted uncomfortably as he crossed the room and handed the letter over.
‘Again? Has everyone forgotten I’m a recluse?’ Emrys rubbed his brow as he took it. The envelope was deep burgundy, which I found strange, the wax seal a golden hue.
‘I see,’ he muttered.
‘Good afternoon, Kat,’ William greeted, his smile a little too tight as his eyes kept returning to Emrys, studying him to gauge his reaction.
Emrys cleared his throat, folding his hands behind his back to hide the letter. His eyes darkening, lips tightly pressed together with displeasure. ‘William, gather my most recent files for Kat to study.’
‘One minute.’ The boy spun on his heel and began to rummage through the nearest shelves.
‘I’m certain you’re anxious to catch up on the most recent breaches,’ Emrys continued speaking to me, something strange about his voice. Distant and cold, remembering what part he was supposed to play.
Breaches . What they called surges in dark magic that came from the earth, caused by the misuse of magic, or so the Council claimed. I found things not to be as simple as that when it came to dark magic, especially the kind that could break the earth’s natural seal and disturb what ancient Kysillian kings had buried.
‘I’ve been summoned to Merton Valley,’ Emrys announced, his face an unreadable mask.
‘In the north? It must be a mistake.’ William frowned, continuing to grab papers and files from the mess of the study shelves, knowing instinctively what was valuable, and stacking them on the side.
‘It will be. That’s why I’ll leave Miss Woodrow in your care, William.’ He nodded, making the boy flush as he ran his hands over his tunic and darted between the bookshelves, continuing his search for the papers Emrys had requested.
The lord turned to excuse himself but those dark eyes drifted to see the items littered across my desk. Stopping him.
‘That’s Hale’s copy.’ He reached out cautiously to turn The Myth of Shadow around, as if moving it could cause damage. He turned to the first page in curiosity. ‘I never thought the old fool would let anyone touch it.’
‘I think he probably wanted me to strengthen my studies.’ I pushed my hair back from my face as it slowly slipped free from my poor excuse of a braid. ‘I was hassling him about it before—’
Before I ruined everything. Only as I looked back to Emrys, he was considering me thoughtfully. Those pale grey eyes with that same curiosity made a foolish thought enter my head. That perhaps I hadn’t ruined anything at all.
Maybe fate had just finally played into my hands.
‘I’ve been hassling him about it for a decade.’ His head inclined to one side in consideration, revealing the strong line of his throat.
A strange nervousness moved through me at the ease of talking to him. Then I decided to be a little braver.
‘Perhaps if I can see your notes on Ren Cardia Theory, you can borrow it,’ I challenged, sliding the large book carefully out of his reach, never breaking his gaze.
His dark eyes shifted to where William was swearing at a tome that seemed determined to fall apart as he tried to move it from its dusty shelf. Then his focus came solely back to me, as intense as a caress, a small uneven smile on his lips.
‘How did you work that one out, Croinn?’ he asked quietly.
‘William said something about Pervanthus herb. Ren Cardia was the only one who connected it to dark summonings and Insidious sickness.’ I shrugged.
‘I’m beginning to worry I’ll have nothing left to teach you, Miss Woodrow,’ he cautioned wryly, the ghost of a smile still there as he rubbed the back of his neck.
‘I’m certain a man of your expertise will find something.’ A challenge lay in my words I hadn’t anticipated as I returned his smile, feeling the intensity of his focus brush against my skin, as if I stood too close to a fire.
‘I was …’ I began, raising my hand to brush the loose hair from my face, only for a different tension to ripple in the air between us. The mirth in his eyes replaced with a darker grey like a storm blowing in.
His attention fixed on my forearm, a tightness to his jaw with displeasure. Then I saw it. The nasty fading bruise from where I’d fallen in the ruins on my forearm. His annoyance clear from the reminder of just how much of a liability I was.
‘The consequences of dabbling with a gobrite.’ I flushed, quickly rolling down my sleeves.
‘The healer wasn’t summoned?’ The words were cold and flat.
I blinked in surprise at his tone. ‘Nobody asked.’
Frowning at the ridiculous notion that the Council would care about anything that happened to me or waste coin on a healer. ‘I have a balm for bruising. I just need to remember to put it on.’
‘Got them!’ William exclaimed, making me jump and turn to see him stumbling between the books and boxes littering the study, arms full of ledgers. ‘I left them in one of the storage boxes on the back shelves.’
‘Thank you, William.’ Emrys’s voice was gruffer than before as he strode purposefully towards the door, hand flexing at his side as if with discomfort, leaving me with nothing but confusion at the sudden change in his mood.
Thankfully, William offered a distraction as he struggled with the large stack of ledgers.
‘Here.’ I rushed over, taking the leaning top half of the pile as we both distributed the work on my desk.
‘These are the most recent.’ He sighed, palms flat on top of the mess before he blew an errant red curl off his forehead. ‘Tea?’
‘Yes, please, William.’ With how much reading there was to do, I knew I’d be needing it. Even if my time here would be spent reading and drinking tea, I suppose there were worse fates to endure.
‘At least you’ll have company.’ He grinned, confusing me until I heard a caterwauling of complaints. The feline form of Alma made her way across the room to jump up on the desk and consider it with suspicion, pawing at the mess of dry wax stuck to the priceless mahogany top.
‘Well rested?’ I asked, watching her ears flatten and a low purr leave her as she stretched out her one ginger leg. ‘I should have left you some notes and pages to read.’ If Alma hated anything more than my foolishness, it was my relentless tutoring.
‘You’re teaching her?’ William asked, genuinely curious.
‘I want her to have the same education as me before we leave the Institute.’
‘Most wouldn’t,’ he reasoned softly, troubled by the fact.
No, they wouldn’t. Fey in service weren’t provided with education. Most had no option but to enter into an indenture or try and survive on the streets.
‘Well, as you know, I’m not like most beings.’ I smiled.
‘No. I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone willing to wander the Blackthorn alone.’ William practically shuddered.
‘How did you know?’
He gave me an apologetic glance. ‘You look like you tumbled through it backwards.’
I couldn’t help but laugh at my own stupidity and clear dishevelment.
‘I was collecting samples and updating my notes. It’s been a long time since I could wander in a wood like that.’ I made an attempt to smooth my hair only to find an errant leaf tangled in it. ‘Then I came across a valek nest that took up most of my attention.’
‘Valek?’ He asked.
‘Yes, fascinating creatures, they hold so many secrets about healing.’ They had immense healing properties, but many people had hunted them for sport, lowering the numbers and limiting their power.
‘They’re hideous and greedy.’ He frowned, rubbing the back of his neck. ‘They’ve ruined two of my cabbage patches.’
‘Perhaps, but they’re one of our last links to the ancient time and the magic we once used.’ When it was in abundance. Before mortals saw fit to take charge of it and regulate the beings who should possess it freely.
‘Here.’ I pulled my collection jar from my small pouch and held it out to him. The reflectiveness of the scales catching the afternoon light perfectly to show rainbow hues when twisted in a certain direction. ‘Their scales continue to glow even days after they shed. Theorists believe that all the cures for the ailments that plague us were gifted from the earth the same time magic was. We just have to find them.’
‘You make it sound exciting.’
‘Does Lord Blackthorn not?’ I asked cautiously, placing the sample on the desk and stroking Alma as she fussed with my papers.
‘I fear Emrys finds little excitement in anything these days,’ he explained carefully. ‘However, he is glad of your arrival. He was telling me all about your Insidious charm. He said he hasn’t seen one so potent since the wars.’
I wondered if we were talking about the same Lord Blackthorn.
‘My own studies have gotten away from me since we’ve ventured into the older texts.’ He let out a deep sigh of frustration. ‘I don’t know quite how to read them.’
‘If you need any help, let me know,’ I offered. The old texts were my favourite, despite their dense and unforgiving tone.
‘Really?’
‘I assume if you’re Blackthorn’s assistant, that means you can assist me too,’ I reasoned with a smile. ‘Unless of course he comes to his senses.’
He let out a small laugh and shook his head. ‘Thank you, Kat. I’ll bring you a few problems to keep things interesting, don’t you worry.’
With that he gave another grin and rushed off, leaving me to consider the mess on the table before me.
‘I hope he does; it will be a welcome change to dealing with my own.’ I sighed, Alma’s tale swishing in annoyance the only sign of her agreement.