Chapter 23 #2
“It’s locked in you,” she said with a smugness I wanted to wipe off her face. That wasn’t good. What other spells were out there that could circumvent my restrictions and how could I use them to my advantage?
“I have a proposal,” she offered. “The draveths are a wealth of magic and information. If given the opportunity to explore their knowledge, I can unlock your magic. And…” Hesitating, she considered me for a little longer, and I hoped I was showing the greed and unscrupulousness she was looking for.
“And…” she repeated, “I can use them to get to the Laytherium.”
I wondered how she’d come upon knowledge of Umbryth.
She’d figured out a way to block out the shadow gods, so it wasn’t unthinkable that she’d know about their realm and their magic.
My heart grieved for Amelia because she’d never truly have her mother.
Vina’s ambition and power hunger would always be a higher priority than Amelia.
And Vina was ruthless enough to destroy her in the process.
“You want to enter Umbryth?” I asked.
“Or tear apart the realm that divides us,” she provided, hubris mingled with avarice.
“You’ve managed to broker a deal with the vampires, who regard you very highly.
They don’t have many abilities that are worth anything, but they have one very special one.
Their ability to compel. It works on the draveths.
I believe that with their knowledge and my magic, we can gain access to Umbryth.
” She prattled off her plan as if it wasn’t the most reprehensible thing imaginable.
“We can destroy the veil and acquire more magic,” she went on.
“I can release you from your restrictions. All of your kind.”
“I don’t trust you. What would keep you from trying to take the magic for yourself?”
“From what I’ve gathered, I wouldn’t have access to the full spectrum of your magic. And you’d have full access to your magic as if you’d successfully completed the Spellrend.” She shrugged. “A destroyed Laytherium would mean more access to magic.”
I didn’t correct her misinformation—because I wasn’t completely sure she was incorrect.
Since the shadow gods had nothing to do with my locked magic, I couldn’t imagine how destroying the Laytherium would release it.
And if by some chance it did, I couldn’t imagine putting my faith in Vina.
I was unable to keep the apprehension from my expression.
“Or I could kill you,” she said flippantly, producing a dagger. “Or her.”
Her eyes flicked to Amelia. Or where she should have been. Then Vina’s shirt turned crimson. Her hold slipped from me. Amelia was glassy eyed as she stared at the blade plunged into her mother before pressing some object against the wound. Vina crumpled to the ground.
That made me think that the blade hadn’t punctured any vital organs and was intended to spill blood and bind Vina to whatever was in Amelia’s hand.
Vina tried and failed to get to her feet, her eyes fixed on the object Amelia held. A peculiar object I remembered seeing in Diehle’s collection.
Vina coughed around her words. It might not have been a killing strike, but it was obviously a painful one and it was difficult for her to keep focus. “How did you get a thaumavore?” She winced.
Amelia didn’t answer, her lips moving at a fervent rate while placing distance between her and her mother.
Burnished tendrils pulled from Vina and disappeared into the small clawlike vessel in Amelia’s hand as her hand glowed a brilliant white.
The stained knife in one hand and the peculiar object in the other, Amelia’s eyes were glistening with unshed tears.
On the ground, Vina’s shroud of casual arrogance from her magical superiority was gone. Her hubris and brittle coldness depleted as she looked at the object in Amelia’s hand with disgust. I couldn’t determine if it was fury or defeat that placed the scowl on Vina’s face.
“By binding my magic, you’ll have to sacrifice yours to maintain it.
Are you sure about this?” she challenged, appealing to a magic lust she believed they shared.
Amelia did possess it, and the yearning for more power, but it came from her desire to protect her coven and the people she loved.
Vina’s came from a thirst for unchecked power.
“It was either this or kill you. I can only live with one of those decisions.”
“You can’t bind my magic without restricting yours,” Vina repeated in a hiss to Amelia’s rueful, knowing expression.
“I know,” she whispered, “but you won’t be able to do more harm, either.”
Color drained from Vina’s skin. Her threats became pleas to stop.
Amelia’s struggle to ignore Vina’s eyes eclipsing to black, the ragged huffs of breath, and her face contorting into a pained grimace made my heart ache for her.
Sweat beaded on Amelia’s upper lip. It took everything in me to keep from intervening.
Her face screwed into a frown as tears streamed down her face.
Several times I had to close my eyes against her self-inflicted torture. Magic was heavy and stifling.
Amelia exhaled, faltered, and stumbled back. Catching herself, she lifted the knife to Vina, who’d made a few steps toward her.
“The wound shouldn’t kill you, but it needs to be addressed.
You don’t have a coven who can help you.
Go to the hospital. I hope they can save you.
” A coven couldn’t heal the wound, but they could manage the pain.
Magicless now, Vina couldn’t even ease it.
Nor could her daughter. After moments of consideration, Vina stumbled to the car and nearly fell into the driver’s seat.
Amelia took an impulsive step toward the car then paused.
Straightening her back, she remained rooted in place, watching Vina intently as she managed her way into the car and drove away.
Amelia plopped to the ground, her legs crossed. She tossed the knife aside as if it had singed her. She stared at the blood-stained blade, her jaw slack, her eyes dull.
The corn and the trees seemed to sway in a chaotic rhythm in response to the magic and violence that lingered in the air.
“I didn’t think she would spell me. Thank you for your help,” she said to the right of me.
Cirrian managed to usher the look of ridicule from his face before she could see it. Pity replaced it.
“If she’d died, your magic wouldn’t be needed to restrict hers,” he said, extending his hand to help her stand.
“My mother’s life is worth more than my magic.”
From Cirrian’s expression, he didn’t share the sentiment. Either he adored his magic or hated his parents, or a combination of the two.
“Do you believe she shares that view?” he asked earnestly.
More tears spilled, and I pulled out of my state of confusion where I was unsuccessfully trying to make sense of the situation that involved Cirrian, Amelia, and Diehle—posthumously.
I held Amelia as she sagged into me. She’d given up more than just her magic.
Unable to ignore the image of Vina’s cold threatening eyes that accompanied her plan to use Amelia’s life as a bargaining tool, Amelia had given up all hope in her mother. Long overdue, in my estimation.
When she released me, the effort to control my disappointment in them leaving me out of the plan was waning.
“She’s angry with us,” Cirrian announced, the weight of his eyes commanding my attention. My eyes narrowed at the mockery in his smile.
Angry wasn’t the right word. I felt betrayed. Already in the dark about so much of my life, Amelia withholding this information stung.
“You would have tried to stop me and spent time trying to help me rather than…” Her eyes dropped to the ground.
“Than fulfilling your obligation to me.” Cirrian sauntered toward me, a darkly tainted smirk on his face. His eyes searched mine, which I kept on him, refusing to give him any more information.
Walking over to Cirrian with purpose, Amelia pushed the clawed object at him. It was filmed over in a rose color, as if it were holding a flower. Illuminated with contained magic. “You have the magic. And my mother has her life. That was our agreement.”
“No, I gave you options. You made this our agreement.” He leaned down to her with a poignant look. “You still have options, Amelia. If this is the one you wish to keep, then you are now the keeper of the thaumavore. The holder of her magic. You sacrificed yours to contain hers. And she knows this.”
“She understands. And this is her choice,” I asserted.
Amelia’s face was flushed, and she was chewing on her lip. She wasn’t second-guessing her decision; I knew it would be her choice if given the opportunity a thousand times. Cirrian had declared her the keeper of Diehle’s nefarious gothic object, and her mother knew it.
“Very well, then it is done.”
He was gone. Moments later, he returned, handing the thaumavore back to Amelia, the color of the flower energy duller than before. His mouth parted, and I seared a look at him. I’d dealt with him enough to know he was likely to say something that would make her decision worse.
“Once again, you’ve circumvented the rules,” I pointed out before he could voice whatever comment he was reflecting on. A half-smile lifted his lips when he turned toward me, his gaze boring through me. It was so breathtakingly intense I forgot we weren’t alone.
“Did I?” he asked softly. Then he was gone again, leaving no opportunity for debate or discussion.
Amelia walked slowly to the car, a deep frown marring her expression. “Maybe he is an asshole,” she mumbled in a fatigued rasp.
Once I was in the car, she sighed, slumping into the steering wheel.
“That didn’t go as expected.” Tears streamed down her face and when she’d stopped wiping them away, I took over.
“I guess I wasn’t as convincing as I believed,” she admitted with a wry smile.
I gave her hand, resting at her side, a squeeze.