Chapter 5
Oser
CLAIRE
Ilost count of how many times I tried—and failed—to keep the candle lit. Eventually, it became less about conjuring the flame and more about the fact that I actually had magick. I had powers that were just for me. The kind that called flames and drove my own pleasure.
After half an hour, I told myself I needed a break. I’d been at it so long that even my brown wolf was panting. But the horn kept vibrating, insistent that I test my limits. As it turned out, my power for self-pleasure was inexhaustible.
With its help, I was free to explore my body on my own terms. I found my body was capable of more than I ever believed. Then there was the little pile of seashells. They’d appeared one by one. Beautiful, tiny things swirled with color. I couldn’t explain why, but they felt like gifts.
I smiled and reclined on the pillow, relaxing into the silk sheets, staring at my shells and the horn, which had finally gone still. Not so long ago, I believed dark magick was an abomination. But things like the horn and these shells were changing my mind.
I stroked the curve of it, grateful for what it had shown me, yet I knew in my heart that in order to break the curse on the necklace, I needed real power. It couldn’t be just me and the horn. There was a missing piece to all this: My husband.
Soon, we would be leaving for the Lawless Lands.
I had no idea what to expect on our journey, except perhaps cold nights in a tent with a man who refused to risk anything for fear of creating an heir.
He would still crawl between my legs, feast on my blood, and still use that skilled tongue of his, but always with restraint.
As if my body were something he had to manage.
That wasn’t what I wanted for my marriage.
And it wasn’t what I wanted for myself. But who could I ask to help me unlock my latent power?
One name came to mind: Devlinn. He was a Dark Witch, and more importantly, he was one of my trusted consorts.
However, since I had chosen the three people I was supposed to take as lovers, they’d always just been friends.
Even Alec. As handsome and charming as he was, and as eager as he’d been to please me, it was nothing compared to Bastien.
I swallowed hard. Yes. Devlinn would know what to do.
As soon as I made the decision to dress and find him, the stone wall across from where I stood groaned.
Puffs of old mortar erupted into the air.
I shielded my face with my hand, sputtering out a cough.
The dust turned into golden sparkles of light, and behind it, as if drawn by an invisible hand, appeared two arched doorways.
The doors swung open in perfect unison, revealing two staircases.
I could hardly believe what I was seeing. Magick, not wielded by a person, but cast from within the walls. It felt, absurdly, as if the castle had heard my vow and decided to answer it.
Cautiously, I drew closer to the open doors. The sound of fur rustling and nails clicking told me I’d piqued the interest of my wolves. They might’ve ignored my cries of pleasure, but they couldn’t ignore this kind of magick.
And neither could I.
I set my hand on the doorway of the ascending staircase and drew in a deep breath.
The scent of parchment, tobacco smoke, and fresh citrus wafted toward me.
It reminded me of the old family grimoires Mama kept.
The ones seeped in light magick. Ones I’d longed to use as a girl. But I knew that would never happen.
I glanced down at the white wolf, who whined and nudged her snout into my knee.
She was encouraging me up the spiraling wooden stairs.
Meanwhile, the larger brown male was standing beside the staircase that plunged downward.
I edged closer to it and drew in a breath of salty air and must. The sound of dripping water echoed from far below.
Taking a step back, I considered the doors.
I thought of using my bloodstone to summon Bastien and ask him where these staircases led, but I already knew what he would do.
He’d simply close both doors and say I needed rest. He’d reassure me that he had a plan to take care of everything and that I needed to trust him.
Just like he refused to consider that maybe these powers came to me for a reason, and that I was meant to take the choker off myself.
My anger spiked viciously. Of course, I trusted him, but he wasn’t returning the favor.
He hadn’t listened to me when I told him I could draw power from the horn.
And I’d been right. The candles, the shells, these doors were all proof.
If he’d just made love to me, I wouldn’t be in this predicament.
I drew in a breath to calm myself. I was letting the fire consume me, and that couldn’t happen.
I was standing at a crossroads, and whichever direction I chose would change my life.
Going up felt like seeking answers in a safe way.
Going down felt like stepping into everything I’d said I was willing to become.
From the depths of the castle came a croaking voice. “Come, Claire,” it called softly. “Come look into my waters.”
The fine hairs along my arms lifted, and my pulse thundered against my ribs. A voice rising from beneath the castle should have sent me running for Bastien. But I wanted to make new choices. To prove that I was the worthiest witch in that graveyard.
Answers, a quiet part of me whispered. Not safety. Not comfort. Answers.
My instincts were pulling me toward the voice. But if I was going to do this, it needed to be now. Bastien wouldn’t be gone forever.
Gathering my courage, I slipped the seashells into the pocket of my robe, which I quickly tied, then held the horn out in front of me like a wand. Or a shield. My wolves fell in behind me as I began the descent.
After a few steps, the light from my bedchamber was lost, and I walked in near darkness. The temperature grew warmer with each step, as if the walls themselves were heated by a supernatural power.
Perhaps Tansy hadn’t been joking, I thought dimly.
Perhaps a dragon truly did sleep beneath the castle.
However, when I rounded the next corner, I didn’t see a scaly beast, but a cavern with sharp stones sticking from the ceiling like jagged teeth, looming over a large salt pond. Steam hung like a cloud over the water.
“Well, well, well,” croaked the voice from somewhere behind the mist. “If it’s not the Duchess herself. Prince Bastien’s long-awaited mate.”
My heart pounded hard in my chest. Only those who had taken a blood vow knew about my marriage.
This person knew things they shouldn’t. My wolves growled, yet I did not turn and run.
Not even when a skeletal figure emerged from the mist. Her long silver hair hung in dripping strands around a sunken face, and grayish skin clung to her bones.
But it was her eyes that gave me pause. They glowed emerald.
Tansy had joked that a mermaid lived beneath the chateau, tending the dragon. This woman was no mermaid, but a witch. You could always see magick in a witch’s eyes.
When Witches of the Light cast spells, they shone pale as moonstone.
When Witches of the Darkness worked their power, their eyes burned like liquid rubies.
But I had never seen anything like this.
Emerald did not belong to either side. Perhaps she was a water demon, like Mama had warned me about when I was a child.
“Who are you?” I asked.
The woman’s lips peeled back in something that might have been a smile, revealing a row of chipped teeth. “Is that what you wish to know? My name?” she croaked. “Or are you here to ask a different question?”
“What do you mean?”
“I only answer questions in exchange for payment. And you”—her gaze flicked downward—“only brought enough shells for one.”
I reached into my pocket and drew out the small handful of shells. I realized these weren’t gifts. They were currency. Payment for the old witch in the water.
The woman slipped beneath the surface of the lake and swam toward me, appearing again at my feet. I swallowed hard, fear tightening my throat, but I did not move.
She regarded the wolves sitting beside me, completely unafraid of them. “So many questions cloud your mind. Who am I? What should I do? What is my husband hiding?” Unfurling her spidery hand, the woman waited expectantly for my shells. “Which will it be, my lady?”
The emerald of her eyes flashed greedily as she stared at them.
She wanted these shells as much as I wanted answers, and I knew I needed to use that to my advantage.
So I put them back in my pocket. When I did, the light dimmed from her eyes, and she crinkled her brow.
“Come, girl, give me your shells and ask your question. The prince will be along soon. And something tells me you wouldn’t want him to find you here. ”
“That’s a bold thing to say,” I replied evenly. “Especially from someone who refuses to tell me her name.”
She narrowed her strange, shiny green eyes. “I am the last remnant of what existed before.”
I didn’t have time for cryptic answers. Frustration bubbled under my skin. The near-constant irritation that I couldn’t seem to control. “Before what?”
A strange grin flashed across her face, like she had been waiting for me to ask this question. “You were born during a time when magick is either dark or light. Moon or demonic. From the great mother, Diana, or from the father, Damien. But it wasn’t always that way.”
She paused, seeming to watch the way the questions swam through my mind, then patted the lip of the salty lake. “If you want to know who I am, come sit by the water, and I’ll tell you a story.”
“I’m not giving you my shells to hear a story,” I said. I came here for answers, not tales.
Her eyes lingered on the horn. She leaned closer, her joints creaking as she moved, bones shifting beneath parchment-thin flesh. “I’ll tell you this one for free. But when the story ends, you will ask your question and give me your payment. Agreed?”
She held my gaze with those unsettling eyes of hers. I hesitated. The heat rolling off the lake had me sweating, making the horn slick in my hands. I didn’t know who or what this woman was, and she was asking me to make a bargain with her. A bargain for the shells I’d created with my own magick.
Fear had kept me small before. I wasn’t going to lose the chance to gain agency over my magick because of a creepy old woman. Besides, I had my wolves to protect me.
Lowering myself onto the damp stone, I winced as steam hissed against my skin, and the salty air stung my eyes. “Agreed.”
Satisfied, the old witch settled herself onto a submerged boulder and crossed her skeletal arms. “You’ve never heard the story of Damien and Diana’s daughters, have you?”