Chapter 19 #2
His expression softened as he stepped closer. He didn’t need to say more. He knew I was the Crowthers’ offering and that I’d been brought to the Emporium to tempt Jurgana.
But why hadn’t the witches acted already? What were they waiting for? Or were they simply not interested in me at all?
“Why wasn’t a Goods Appraisal ordered the moment the Witches learned of it?” I asked.
“Oh, they’ve been curious. A few are rather eager, especially when they heard it was you the Crowthers were offering to auction off. You’re the girl who bows to none.”
My surprise must have shown on my face, because he continued, “There’s a lot about you that’s tempting. But one aspect in particular is enticing. You’ve never bent the knee to me or my kind ever. Imagine drawing that quality out of you.”
The way he said it made it feel like pulling a single thread from a tapestry. “That’s power, real power, Nelle. What might it create if added to a spell?”
Desire blazed in his eyes at the thought of wielding such magic. He blinked, shuttering the craving away. Shifting his weight, he cocked an eyebrow, mirth playing on his handsome features as if we were sharing a delicious bite of gossip. “But so far no one is willing to make that step.”
“Why not?”
He gestured toward me, to the imperious way I held myself. “Your status. That’s the only thing standing in their way. You’re the daughter of Byron Wychthorn, ruler of Great House. They don’t want to disrupt how things are run between us and you.”
Hope was a thin, frayed ribbon I grabbed hold of with both hands. The words stumbled out quicker and messier than I intended. “Then there’s a chance for me?”
Please, please…please…
Dark hair ruffled as he shook his head and gave me a small, pitying look. “Now that you’re here at the Emporium, I don’t think so. Not for much longer.”
“Jurgana,” I breathed, offering him a watery, overwhelmed smile. She was the Horned God the Crowthers hoped would grant them a Goods Appraisal—the one they wanted to parade me in front of.
“Yes. She’s the one most likely to push for an invitation. She can be bold at times, especially when it’s something she desires. And what she desires most is weaving new spells.”
He turned, so he stood at my side, and together we looked out over the Houses, at all those cold-blooded men and women who served my father and were here to witness my degradation.
He made a contemplative sound at the back of his throat before murmuring, “The Crowthers are undeniably mercenary and entirely ruthless when they want something.”
My thoughts arrowed instantly to my father.
Gods, it would kill him to learn what the Crowthers were doing.
He’d do anything to save me. I twisted around on the pedestal to face Master Sirro better, wringing my hands to stop myself from reaching out to him, from folding them into a posture of prayer and begging.
“Please don’t tell my father. Not about the Witches Ball,” I implored.
From what Dustin had revealed, neither he nor my sister knew about that part of the Crowthers’ plan.
No matter what was going to happen to me during the next two weeks, by the end of it, with the mites’ help, I’d be free.
I couldn’t bear to worry my family further with the threat of the Witches Ball hanging over my head.
Master Sirro studied me, and whatever he saw on my face pained him.
“As you wish, sweet Nelle.” There was such sorrow shining in his gaze that it stunned me.
His next words were carefully chosen, spoken so quietly I strained to hear them above my heartbeat thudding in my ears.
“It’s kind of you to spare him from that horror, even if you’ll not survive the time between your birthday and the Witches Ball. ”
For a moment, I wasn’t sure I’d heard him right. “What do you mean?”
“The Alverac is wild magic, Nelle. Savage and merciless. But most of all, it’s wilful. Not many bound to it lasted very long.”
“I thought it simply bound me to Graysen’s will.”
“Yes, it does. But not the way you think—not merely forcing you to submit to his command. It’s treacherous. Temperamental. Impulsive. Even an innocent, passing thought can trigger its authority.”
Oh gods…
The pedestal felt as if it were rocking beneath me, but it was only my knees knocking together and almost buckling. “I didn’t know.”
“I don’t believe even the Crowthers suspect how dire it is.”
His eyes narrowed once more on Zrenyth’s rope peeking between the flexing bone-fingers.
Falling into deep thought, he stroked his chin, elegant fingers cutting through the dark bristles of his beard.
“Your twentieth birthday is less than two weeks away. When it comes, the Alverac will bind you to Graysen forever.”
I swallowed, my throat feeling as if it had been sliced open with razor blades. My voice cracked. “Can it be reversed?”
He loosened a heavy sigh, dropping his hand to sweep outward in futility. “There is nothing I can do once the wild magic locks your souls together.” His eyes met mine, and I went rigid at the sly cunning there. “There is, however, something I can do before the Alverac becomes final.”
I knew exactly what he was going to offer.
The same thing he’d offered the night of Evvie’s engagement.
We’d danced together on parquet flooring to modern music bent into a classical style.
He’d revealed enough of the Alverac’s truth to frighten me then, enough to send me running to my parents to learn the awfulness of its full truth.
Out on the dance floor, he offered me a deal.
The answer was more air than voice. “You’d get rid of Graysen permanently.”
He inclined his head: a yes.
“There’s something I’d have to give in return for your help,” I said now, much as I had the time before. “So, what do you want?”
“I think it’d be the same offer I made to you last time,” he said, his voice silken and inviting.
I’d warm his bed for the night.
Do it, do it, do it—I urged myself.
But I hesitated.
I wasn’t as mercenary as the Crowthers. They wouldn’t hesitate to agree to the deal. And either choice wasn’t going to truly save me. I’d either be working here at the Emporium or servicing Master Sirro.
Gods, what shall I do?
What answer would I give the Horned God?
I stood on the pedestal and the stone felt like a block of ice beneath my feet. A chill seeped through the soles of my high heels, through the leather too. In this oppressive heat, I was bone-cold.
Would I end Graysen’s life or save it?
I was so far gone in thought that I startled when cool, smooth fingers cupped my chin.
Master Sirro tilted my head down and angled his own back, standing so close his breath swept outward to curl against my lips, a ghost of a kiss, spiking a rush of illicit pleasure.
“It’s admirable how you still protect him. ”
“I’m not—”
“No lies between us, Nelle.”
Inwardly, I flinched. A sharp ache sliced through my heart and tears dewed on my lashes. “How can I?” I whispered, my chin quivering, the words breaking apart.
“How could they?” he countered, just as softly, with a pointed look toward Jett conferring with his aunt. He leveled a grave look upon me. “Think on my offer, Nelle. Tell me your answer the next time we meet.”
And before I could even open my mouth to say yes or no or stay, please stay, he’d turned away and was gone, walking across the rooftop at a swift, purposeful pace. His Familiar followed behind, but Sarnia remained.
As I watched Master Sirro disappear into the darkness, his sonorous voice reverberated through my head, my heart thundering with each word as they rolled through the chamber of my mind.
You’ll not survive the time between your birthday and the Witches Ball.