Gods, I hoped so.
When we made our way back into the drawing room, Lynx and Alina were deep in conversation. They broke off when we entered, Alina’s face shuttering as she looked up at Branok.
“All right, Alina.” Branok poured her a glass of the blue liquid and offered her the glass with a flourish, although his gaze seemed sad. “Time to light up again—and deny the truth again.”
She rolled her eyes and took a swig of the drink he’d just handed her. Then she pulled a face. “Does it always have to taste like pickled beet juice?”
She set the glass down on the table. A wisp of pink magic began to flow around her, and its light reflected off her face—which was suddenly rose. I swept my fingertips through it, curious, and it dissipated into hundreds of glowing pink sparks before it faded into the air entirely.
“They want to convince me that this parlor trick means that Lucien put some kind of dark spell on me,” she said.
“It’s true.” Lynx said, “Look.”
He poured and drained his own glass of potion and made a face that was just as dramatic as Alina’s had been. Nothing happened, though, except that he swiped the back of his hand over his mouth and set the glass down with a clink. “I haven’t had any enchantments placed on myself.”
And indeed, there was no magic floating in the air around him.
I debated seizing the bottle and chugging it, or coming up with a guise for getting my own sip of the potion.
“Why don’t you take a sip, Honor?” Branok held a glass toward me. He had the face of an angel, but he looked at me as if I’d crawled out of hell. “Let’s see what lies you have soaked into your skin.”
He didn’t trust me. And I smiled back at him, grateful for it; his brows twitched as if the way I looked at him unnerved him just slightly.
“Happily,” I said, our fingers briefly overlapping as I took the glass from his hands. I hesitated, just for a second, before I took a long sip. I knew that I must carry at least three spells: Damyn’s face-changing spell, Teris’s lying curse, and an enchantment that kept the door closed between my present and my memories of the past.
The world went pink. Bright flashes of light seem to dance in the corners of my vision as arcs of magic surrounded me, singing through the air.
Where one pink band had surrounded Alina, a sign of the enchantment that she carried on her skin, there had to be dozens dancing through the air. The magic was so thick in the room it changed the light from the soft glow of the firelight to a pulsing electric pink.
Through the bright magical haze, I registered shock on Lynx’s face, and horror—then fury—on Branok’s.
Dozens of enchantments danced in the air around me.
Chapter
Thirty-Eight
Branok
“Do you still think it’s just a parlor trick?” I asked Alina harshly. She seemed stunned into silence.
Lynx studied Honor. “There must be dozens of enchantments on you. Why?”
“I don’t know,” she answered.
For the first time since I’d met her, she looked afraid.
As well she should be.
“Jaik needs to know about this, now,” I said. “Playtime’s over.”
I grabbed Honor’s wrist and yanked her toward the door.
“Why are you like this?” Alina demanded, darting in front of me. I grabbed her shoulder and pushed her, gently but firmly, out of my way.
The next thing I knew, I was flying face-first into the wall.
My head cracked against the drywall. My fingers tightened around Honor’s wrist, but it didn’t matter; her body was against mine, pressing me into the wall, and her other hand gripped her knife. The blade of that knife was a cold bite against my throat.
“I don’t like that,” Honor said, very softly.
“Get the hell off me,” I barked. The swell of my Adam’s apple against the blade cut a fine line, so thin I barely felt it until a trickle of warmth ran down my skin.
The maid had lost her damn mind, threatening the life of one of the royals.
I threw myself back into her, gaining an inch’s reprieve between my throat and the knife, and kicked into the wall. My feet found purchase against the wall and I somersaulted off, landing on my feet behind her. She twirled with the blade, and I slammed the back of my fist into her forearm. She dropped the knife, reached to catch it with the other hand, but I yanked her into my arms, trapping her against my chest. I tried to hold her too tightly to allow her another move, but she was already tilting her head back, and I twisted to one side, knowing she was about to drive her forehead forward and try to shatter my nose.
“Enough!” Lynx said in exasperation. Honor came to a stop, the two of us locking eyes, both breathing hard.
Alina was staring at us both, wide-eyed. With a tone of admiration, she asked Honor, “Can we be best friends?”
I scoffed and pushed Honor aside, moving quickly to pick up the knife she’d dropped. I didn’t trust the little hellion with anything sharp. Hell, I wouldn’t trust her with a book; I’d bet on her to bludgeon me to death with a hardcover or diligently paper-cut me to death.
I grabbed the blade, then caught sight of a familiar house crest on the amethyst-studded hilt. “This is Arren’s knife.”
“He gave it to me,” she said defensively. Then, to Alina: “Yes, absolutely, let’s be friends.”
“No,” I said firmly. Where the hell was my sister’s loyalty? I’d looked after her since she was in the cradle, when Lynx and I used to duck our nanny to sleep near her. “No friendship with the inappropriate homicidal housemaid. Alina, honestly. You just saw her try to fillet me.”
“If she’d wanted you filleted, you’d be filleted,” Alina purred. “And I didn’t see her hurt you, even though you were acting like an absolutely brutish oaf, until you laid your hands on me.”
“Brutish? Fine. Oaf? No.” I frowned at her, offended. I was never an oaf. “We need to talk to Jaik about Honor’s enchantments.”
“Sounds great to me,” Honor said, sounding exasperated. “You don’t need to drag me hither and yon for that, Branok. I’d like to go talk to Jaik. Let me say goodbye to Alina though, you ridiculous man.”
“It’s just that Branok doesn’t know how to say goodbye to me himself,” Alina said tartly, “so it’s easier to rush out of here on a mission.”
Alina’s gaze swept over me, as hot and fierce as she was herself. “You’re just like our father, aren’t you? If something doesn’t fit into your life the way you want it to, you’d just as soon as erase it.”
I stared back at her, flummoxed. “I’m nothing like Joachim.”
She scoffed, started to say something but Lynx cut in. “All right,” he interrupted. “Jaik definitely will want to see us all after everything that’s happened. Let’s just take a break from murder and head back home.”
Lynx glanced around at all of us, looking as exasperated as our nanny used to. “Yes? Yes. We’re all agreed. An hour’s break from being murderous loons.”
Honor stared at Lynx, then said, “I think I’m offended.”