Chapter 50 #2
“They are here,” the Scion called over his shoulder, looking like a shadow with most of the light behind his back. Yet, his mark was clear on his wrist when he raised his hand. “No cloaks.”
I bit the inside of my cheek as Onorio shrugged off his garment and I unclasped my robe. The Scion’s eyes dragged over me coldly. He wore layers of necklaces and bracelets, likely relics enchanted to resist any form of compulsion.
“Do not force me to bind you both,” he threatened, shifting aside so we could pass. His teeth flashed at me as we walked by.
Light spilled from a room directly ahead, cast by several magelights. A narrow, gloomy corridor stretched to the right.
My pulse leapt, and I tried to breathe through my fear.
There were at least ten marked men spread throughout the space. Some sat in a few couches against the wall, others stood by the window. Every one of them fell silent as we entered, their attention settling on me and Onorio.
There was no trace of his family.
The thick scent of tobacco drifted through the room. A tingling prickle climbed the back of my neck. My shield remained raised around both of us, but my pulse thundered as I met the gaze of the man standing closest.
He regarded me with a lazy brown stare, a sneer pulling at the corner of his mouth. He stood tall and rigid in his floor-length cloak.
Yet it was the figure beside him, approaching in slow steps, who hollowed out my lungs.
Giddeon Madden.
His face was composed, stern. There was less hatred there than in the others, which was not reassuring in the least. His long silver hair was tied at the back of his neck. A tailored charcoal cloak hung from a strap across a velvet sweater.
When the corner of his mouth lifted, my stomach soured.
A frigid gust slipped through cracks in the walls and a half-opened window, tugging at coats and stirring the edges of worn rugs. This was no permanent base. It looked more like a temporary hideout, a place for quick business and quicker leave.
“I heard I should congratulate you,” Madden said, his tone almost polite. Nothing like what I remembered.
A brunt of power slammed into my shield, pressure grinding at the edges as someone tried to tear it down. My teeth clenched at the force, and I siphoned more of my sister’s denser mana to hold the shield.
My well churned. Joy’s relic poured power into me like a second heartbeat.
The attacker relented, but all Scions kept eyeing me, as though looking for a weakness.
“Where are Daria and Jack?” I asked, keeping my voice calm despite the frantic drum in my chest.
Madden’s attention shifted to Onorio, who stood rigid beside me. His gaze was darting around the room, as if he was realising how we were catastrophically outnumbered. But as he noticed Madden’s gaze, he dipped his head.
“Bring the woman and the brat,” Madden ordered one of the men near the back.
We could fling from here. If I could reach them, if I could grab Daria and Jack, I could fling us before they even lifted a hand.
Ideas crossed my mind, and the urge to try was too tempting.
Everything inside me urged to get out of here.
Send a familiar to Reagan or Gwin, tell them the name of the town.
But shifting even a breath of focus from the ward might let one of them slip through. They couldn’t compel me, but they could hurt me and hurt Onorio’s family.
“I must admit I didn’t expect to see you still alive, much less promised a position to rule over the mageborn,” Madden said as he circled us.
His voice carried amusement and derision in equal measure.
“But Varian Ilya is not the Mage Lord of Mountheim, and as it seems, Reagan is redeemed and ready to put a half-breed in a position of power.”
He tilted his head as he drifted behind me.
“Not even the dead rulers of that shipwreck estate were quite so bold. And here he is, giving you the right to claim more land for humans. I would wager he plans to share everything equally. Power. Territory. Resources. After all, we are all the same, are we not?”
His mockery only fanned the hatred simmering in every marked man watching me.
“Filthy half-breed,” someone spat.
It hardly mattered who said it; the sentiment was the same for all. They glared, except for their leader and the brown-eyed man beside him, the one with the mark inked on his temple. As I allowed myself a deeper look, I realised the mark was the eye with fire inside. The Scion mark.
“You will have to ask him that,” I said. “He will speak of his plans if you agree to meet. But you must release the family first.”
My voice stayed even, anchored by the steady presence of my familiar in my head. I wondered if I could send the eagle without them noticing, wondered whether I could split my concentration, but I was too afraid to try.
“He is such a reasonable man,” Madden said.
“If I thought I could get through to your thick-headed lord, I would have. But after hearing how he had some of my men dragged to Pavilion for the lie that they tried to kill him…” His breath escaped in a derisive sound.
“I won’t give him the chance to say that I tried to kill him too. ”
Steps echoed behind us. The Scion shoved them into the room.