“Do you have anything you want to add?” I ask.
She licks her lips once. “Yes.” She addresses the witches. “Morgan’s ungodly experiment was first carried out on me. I know what it’s like to lose your soul.” She shudders. “Ever since that moment, I have vowed my revenge. I hold no ill will to the vampires of this coven. Nor—” she sighs, “—nor to Eleira. The Haven Queen did what she thought she must do to protect her vampires. I don’t think you are here to save Morgan. Nor are you here to give her the benefit of the doubt. And I…” she pauses, gathering her courage, then finishes in a rush. “I want to learn from you. I don’t have a lot of natural ability in magic. But I have made up for that by studying what I could my whole life. I will share with you what I know, if you’d like, in return for one thing.”
Allura raises an eyebrow. “Are you in a position to make such requests, prisoner?” she asks.
“Let her speak,” I say, feeling a bit of curiosity about the problem.
Rebecca clears her throat. “I want you to restore me,” she says. She looks down at her body. “I don’t want to live in this shell, this… illusion. This is my body, but the force that animates it is not my own. These are my thoughts, but they come to me through an all-encompassing haze. This is the best outcome I could dream of, hatching up plans for revenge over the hundreds of years I spent underground. Yet, now I see there is a better way.” Her voice takes on a desperate quality. “Please. I don’t want to live like this. The fit is wrong. My body fights the foreign soul inside it every minute. Everything is tight. Nothing is natural. Please, if you can restore my own soul to me… I won’t need… I won’t have to…”
Her voice breaks, and I think she’s about to break down, when Allura stands, walks around the table, and stops by Rebecca’s side.
She reaches out and places her hand over Rebecca’s. The blue glow of magic surrounds them both. She weaves such an intricate net, and so quickly, that I have no chance of keeping up.
It looks like a silver gown, made of the most delicate material. It flows over Rebecca, coating her body, cocooning her in its embrace.
I watch, fascinated as the glow pulses with her heartbeat. All four Currents are intricately put together, and the threads interweave and multiply, growing in complexity, until it becomes impossible for me to distinguish Earth from Water, Fire from Air. As it settles around Rebecca’s body, it gives a final flash, and then sinks into her skin.
Rebecca gasps. Allura steps away. The Currents cut off, the weaving of the spell is done.
And Rebecca sits there, mouth agape, just staring at Allura in amazement.
The older witch nods and returns to her seat.
“What did you do?” I inquire. “The complexity of that… there’s no way to guess the effect.”
“We provided her the respite she was asking for,” Allura says.
I realize, belatedly, that all three witches were channeling, and all three contributed to the spell.
“I feel… clean,” Rebecca marvels.
“What did you do?” I repeat.
“We helped her body relax, to accept the foreign element,” Allura says. She looks at Rebecca. “We are willing to consider your proposal. But I can only speak for the three of us. The decision ultimately rests with your Queen.”
“What is there to think about?” I ask. “If you can restore Cassandra to herself, while simultaneously helping Rebecca…”
“Cassandra is the one whose soul she stole?” Allura inquires. Her eyes come on me. “An unlinking could be done. But it requires a great amount of magic. More than the three of us channel together.”
Rebecca visibly slumps.
“It is also extremely dangerous. Not just for Rebecca and the other. But for us. We’ll need to know the risk we are taking is proper.”
“How dangerous?” I ask.
“Souls are not objects meant to be trifled with. They are not of this world, even though they take residence here. Many different things could go wrong. It could harm us. It could harm her. It could kill us, if we are not careful, channeling the vast amount of power required to do it.”
“I can help you,” I say. “Between the four of us, surely there will be enough.”
“No,” Allura says. “You are too raw, still too inexperienced. And we will not subject you to unnecessary risk.”
“The way to do it,” Sute says, “is with a torrial. It does not have to be a strong one. But we can use it to shield ourselves from the backlash that might occur.”
“So, you’re willing to do it?” Rebecca asks, hope filling her voice.
“We are willing to try,” Allura corrects. “Whether we are successful or not depends on a host of other factors.”
“You just said it’ll require more power than you can draw,” I say, feeling confused. “How are you going to try if you cannot get enough magic? Is the torrial going to be enough?”
“We’re not going to access the power needed through a torrial,” Allura says, fixing her gaze squarely upon me. “That is just for our protection. We will harness the magic of the witch who first ripped Rebecca’s soul from her body.”
“Morgan?” I sputter. “You’re going to enlist Morgan’s help?”
“No. We will use her as a conduit. We do not require her consent.”
I stare, aghast.
“It is the only choice we have, other than killing her,” Allura turns to take in Rebecca. “A soul transfer of the sort she did cannot be allowed to stand. That is why we wanted to speak in private. You were unwilling.”
“If Rebecca dies, Cassandra does, too?”
“Yes. But Cassandra’s soul will be freed.”
“Then we will try,” I tell her. “In fact, I command it. Tell me what you need, and I will see it done.”
“We require only the witch who cast the first spell… and the object into which the soul was banished to.”
“The portrait is in Felix’s store in the stronghold,” I say. “But the structure collapsed. It will have to be excavated.”
“Set your vampires to it.”
I nod. I go to the door, crack it open, and give instruction to the nearest guard. He passes them on to another guard, who hurries away to comply.
“Done,” I say.
“Good,” Allura nods.
“Eleira…” Rebecca starts. I stare at her. She doesn’t back down.
“I thank you,” she says, and I know the sentiment is sincere.
I give her a brief nod of acknowledgement. “This does not absolve you of the crimes you have committed,” I say. “Remember that.”
“I am well aware, and forever grateful,” she replies.
“In that case,” I look at the Forsaken Sisters, “I’d imagine you want to see where Morgan’s body is being held. I don’t know how you intend to use her in Rebecca’s restoration—”
“The torrial, any torrial, will give a safety buffer,” Sute volunteers, “and Morgan’s own abilities will be drawn upon to culminate the amount of power we need for what must be done.”
“Understood,” I say. “Is there anything else? Or should we get going?”
“We have waited to get to Morgan for centuries,” the Sisters say as one. “Let’s go.”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Raul
The Haven.
I pace the length of my apartment, wondering what the hell is taking Eleira so long.
Her behavior is starting to piss me off. I’ve been away for so long, gone through so much, all for her benefit… and this is the greeting I get? A quick dismissal after she realized Phillip was the one to convert the witches and barely a glance more?
It feels like she is growing resentful of me. Or maybe I am of her. Whatever it is, this certainly isn’t the fairy-tale romance first promised by Mother and the rest of her Royal Court. I was groomed my whole life—without knowing, even!—to wed the future Queen, but then she was just given that power without me?
Things never felt so damn stiff, so forced, when Liana and I were together.
Suddenly, I feel Phillip’s eyes burning a hole in the back of my skull. I twist toward him, snarling.