The little witch scoffed. “Morganna has been in exile since I was a child. She’s likely moved on to her nextlife. The only way she could return is through exceptionally powerful magic no one has seen in…well, since my uncle Merlin. But, given her signature, it’s clear as the sky she’s le Fay.”
Aunt Millie pressed a hand to Olivia’s forehead, then another to her heart. She frowned, then lifted one of Olivia’s palms and stared. Another scan of Olivia’s magical signature deepened Millie’s scowl.
“She’s a descendant through Morganna’s son; she’s not Morganna herself. In time, she will prove very powerful. But for now, she is a normal, underage witchling.”
Marrok frowned. Did the little woman speak the truth? Her eyes, his gut, said yes. “Bloody hell.”
“Perhaps a le Fay descendant will be able to undo your curse,” Bram suggested.
And perhaps not.
Millie laid a soft hand on his arm. “Heart magic is my specialty, not future telling. But this girl…I can feel that she’s destined for importance. She must be kept alive at all costs.”
But he could not guarantee that he could give her his seed at all, much less regularly.
Marrok whirled on Bram. “This is impossible. My curse…You know it has denied me for centuries.”
Bram nodded. “There is, perhaps, another way of keeping Olivia alive.”
“Aye?”
“To sever your connection to her would end her dependence on you.”
Marrok frowned. “What do you mean?”
“Mate breaking,” Aunt Millie answered. “It’s rare, because we believe mates are fated. Once a pair mate-bonds, their lives become entwined. They need each other’s pleasure to sustain their life, so their life spans become similar. Mated pairs often have many happy centuries together. A Call is rarely issued without knowing that the one they ask is their true love. And Calls are not answered unless—”
“Do you speak of magical…divorce?”
Bram nodded. “With…strings.”
Naturally. “Such as?”
“Mate breaking is painful for both parties. Excruciating if the bond is deep. Afterward, Olivia will not remember you. A woman’s mind is wiped clean so she can eventually take another mate and reproduce. But she will always feel the pain of loss without understanding why. The grief would linger unless you met again. Then her memories could return and endanger her once more. So if you break this bond, you must go far away and never return.”
The entire idea sounded horrific. And inconvenient. Being le Fay, whether Morganna or not, she might be the only person who could help him break his curse. Leaving her was no option. But neither was watching her die.
“How would breaking our bond help her?” Marrok asked.
“If you separate, Olivia would no longer need your vitality to stay alive. She would come into her power naturally somewhere around twenty-five. If she survives the mate breaking—”
“If she survives?”
“Some witches and wizards don’t. It’s traumatic. Normally with a bond this new, the impact of breaking it would be minimal. The deeper the bond, the more dangerous it is to sever. The deeper the scar. Yours hasn’t been fully formed. But Olivia is very weak…”
So a quick death, unless he and Olivia could discover the key to unlock his curse, or a probable death with a life of painful, illogical loss if she managed to survive. Neither option was acceptable.
What a bloody nightmare. Magic had once again shoved him into an untenable situation, and he’d rashly rushed in to his own peril—and Olivia’s.
Was there any chance Bram had plotted this? Millie was his aunt, after all.
Much as he’d like to blame the cur, nay. Marrok knew he had heaped this situation on himself.
Or maybe…
Marrok whirled on Bram. “How much of this is the truth, and how much is you manipulating me to get that book you want so bloody bad?”
“You called me. Your mate is unwell. Do you think I cursed her into some ‘illness’ so I could maneuver you into this choice? How could I have known that you would enter a magical mating? I occasionally see the future, but you’re giving me far too much credit, I assure you. And how would this get me any closer to the book?”
Before Marrok could reply, a little pop and a puff of white smoke appeared. Moments later, a bird circled, seeming to whisper in Bram’s ear.
In the next instant, he blanched white and bounded for the door. “I must go.”
Marrok followed him down the hall, grabbing at his arm. “But—”
“Later. The MacKinnetts have been attacked. It looks like the work of the Anarki. If that’s true…” he grimaced. “Then my vision has come true. Mathias is back.”
Four hours later, Bram returned to Marrok’s cottage in the Creepified Forest. He knocked and waited long minutes.
Finally, Marrok opened the door, cradling Olivia’s limp body against his chest. With the press of his strong hands, he tried to still her, but she writhed restlessly, wrapping her legs around him. Her tongue peeked out, lapping at his neck. The man’s entire body was stiff.
“How is she faring?” Bram asked.
“Better now that your aunt removed the stone from her wrist.”
“Need you. Inside me,” Olivia moaned suggestively.
“Shh.” He stroked her back.
The Olivia Bram knew would be mortified that she’d behaved this way around others. But after today’s events, he could not spare a smile. And Marrok might hate magic and everything le Fay, but the way he cradled his mate, it was clear the bond was affecting him.
“Come in. You look as if you have been to hell.” Marrok stepped back.
Bram supposed he did. He hadn’t looked in a mirror lately, just into the sightless eyes of magical men and women slaughtered needlessly and viciously. The magical children who had vanished, never to be seen again until they’d been thoroughly inducted into the Anarki, haunted him. The fate he knew awaited Auropha twisted his gut.
“I have. And it will spread.” Bram knew his hair was askew, his face smudged with dirt and caked with sweat. He didn’t care. “Mathias is definitely back.”
To say more now would just mean reliving the horror. He’d have plenty of time for that, when he presented information to the Council. “We’re looking for the Anarki hideout in my vision and hope to save the captured MacKinnetts, but it’s been hours.”
“Sit,” Marrok offered.
Exhausted, Bram stumbled to the nearest chair and fell into it. Marrok followed, folding his warrior’s body on the sofa and cradling Olivia in his lap. She fell limp against him.
“How is Olivia?”
“Blessedly asleep, for now. But when she wakes…” He grimaced.
“What will you do about her? Keep the bond or break it?”
“I cannot afford to let her go, but if I release her and she dies anyway…”
“If she lives, I suspect that Mathias will seek her, just as he will seek the book.”
Bram knew that saving magickind from Mathias might not be possible unless he got his hands on the Book of Doomsday. And until he found a way to thieve it or Marrok discovered how to end his curse, Bram could not touch it.
“By God, why?”
“If he obtains the Book of Doomsday, it’s likely more powerful if used by a le Fay. At least I believe so. Mathias probably does as well. I suspect he will want Olivia to further his evil cause.”
Bram didn’t think it was his imagination when Marrok cradled Olivia’s slight body even tighter against him. The wizard reached across the space between them and grabbed Marrok’s arm. “There are no easy answers, but magickind is resting on your decision.”
“Mine?”
Bram was tired of talking. Tired, period. Marrok hated magic—with good reason. He would do whatever he wanted, never mind all the witches and wizards who would die trying to protect their children, never mind all the women Mathias would drain until death, or all the younglings who would vanish into the ranks of his disposable army once he’d forced them to commit atrocities and destroyed them.
“You need to decide quickly if you’re going to break your mate bond. If you do nothing, Olivia will not live to see the sun rise.”
CHAPTER SIX
“WELL?” THE FAMILIAR FEMALE VOICE prompted Bram the second he entered the manor.
Bram turned to his half sister. Sabelle was far more interested in magical politics than he liked. No longer were they limited to subtle intrigues and Machiavellian games; these were now officially dangerous times. Yet she stood nearby to jump into the treacherous waters headfirst. Good thing he was willing to act as his younger sister’s life jacket. Sabelle had just celebrated her eighty-fourth birthday. Old by human standards…but still young in the magical world.
On the other hand, Sabelle was quick, clever, and understood magickind. Despite her youth, she provided surprisingly sage counsel.
“What did the Council decide about Mathias?”
“Nothing. Too busy squabbling.” Bram rolled his eyes. “Ineffectual idiots. Why did I agree to take this post with all the elders?”
“Because you are the future of the Council. Their time is nearly past. Patience…”
“The elders fail to see that if they rescind the Social Order, Mathias will have no cause to hide behind and will be exposed as an evil power-grabber.” Bram gritted his teeth. “But they fear Privileged backlash if they rescind it even more than they fear Mathias. So they argue between prudence and action. And they’ll keep arguing while everyone around them is dying.”
“You can’t be surprised.”
“No.” He sighed. “But they’re so bloody afraid of change! I’m annoyed.”
“What about Marrok and the book?”
“Though he never admitted to having it, I’m convinced he does. I’d simply thieve it, but I have no notion where he’s hidden it. He will not willingly part with it until he’s broken his curse.”
“Unfortunate, but you can hardly blame the man.”
“I would like to.”
Sabelle sent him a saucy smile. “In his shoes, you’d do much the same, I suspect.”
“The good of magickind—”
“Means little to a man who has endured centuries of hell because of magic. Are you using your brain at all?”
“Whose side are you on?” Bram scowled.
Sabelle tossed a golden curl behind her shoulder. She looked like a cross between a faerie and a siren. Little wonder, since she had the blood of each running in her. If she ever found the right man, he’d stand virtually no chance of resisting her. But the bastard had better, unless he had Bram’s blessing…or he wanted to die.
“What about Ms. Gray? Aunt Millie told me of her…illness.”
“I think Marrok has realized she’s not Morganna. I hope, anyway. If not, she’s as good as in the grave.”
“But they are mates.”
Bram shrugged. “He hates Morganna. He’d cut off his right arm to destroy her. If she, Olivia, is Morganna in disguise and has duped us all, she’s having quite a laugh at our expense. But she isn’t our problem.”
“Mathias is.” Sabelle sank into a nearby chair. Distress and fortitude blended into a determined expression that, as an older brother, scared the hell out of Bram. “We must do something.”
“Stay out of this, Sabelle.”
The look in her blue eyes could have cut steel. “Don’t be absurd. I may look fragile, but, like you, I have Merlin’s magic in my veins. I won’t sit about like some helpless princess while the rest of magickind fights. It’s my cause, too. My people.”
Bram couldn’t fault her logic. Why couldn’t she be totally selfish like her mother? Devanna would have happily sat back and watched others die for her.
“Sabelle…” he warned.
She grabbed his hand. As always, her touch soothed him. Thanks to her siren blood and potent magic, she could put her hand on anyone and make them feel whatever she wished.
“Keep your tricks to yourself.” He tried to shake free.
With a squeeze, she gripped him tight. “Take a deep breath.”
Hell, there was no fighting her once she’d made up her mind.
After Bram had complied with her “request,” she soothed him by rubbing a soft thumb across his knuckles. Resisting was a losing battle. Peace settled comfortably under his skin.
Finally, she released him. “Mathias has gathered the Anarki again and is—”
“Wreaking havoc,” Bram replied. Grimness edged into Sabelle’s artificial peace. “If the rest of the Council refuses to act, I must find people willing to put their differences aside and fight.”
Sabelle opened her mouth, but three deep gongs interrupted her, announcing the fact they had company. From the sounds of the magical calling card, Lucan MacTavish had arrived. Saved by the bell.
