“Of course.” Taran pulled his dagger from the sheath at his belt, presenting it to Bruno hilt-first.
“Excellent, yes, very sharp. This will do nicely.” Then Bruno’s gaze moved to the glowing marks at Taran’s throat. “Huh. That is very curious indeed. Have you been dabbling in elementia, young man? Or did a witch cast a curse upon you?”
“Something like that,” Taran said, then indicated the parchment. “May I read this?”
Bruno held it out to him. “Of course.”
Taran glanced at Ashur and Magnus. “My mother kept notes on spells and her experiences with magic. I’ve read this sort of thing before.”
“Does it look like it will work?” Ashur asked.
Taran scanned the page. “Hard to tell.”
“For the blood sacrifice . . .” Bruno said, glancing around the area. “Perhaps we can find something slow to catch. A turtle, perhaps.”
“Give me that.” Magnus took the blade from Bruno and pressed it against the palm of his left hand, pressing down until he felt a sting. “No turtles need to die. We can use my blood.”
Bruno nodded. “That should be fine.”
Magnus held his hand out and watched his blood drip to the ground.
“Good,” Taran said, nodding. “According to this, you need to smear it into a circle.”
“How large of a circle?”
“It doesn’t say.”
Begrudgingly, Magnus did as instructed, creating a circle only two feet in diameter. “Now what?”
“Speak her name,” Taran said. “Ask her to join us . . .” He winced as he looked up from the parchment. “And ask politely.”
Magnus hissed out a breath. “Very well. Valia, we wish for you to join us here and now.” He gritted his teeth. “If you please.”
“Good,” Bruno said, smiling. “Now we wait.”
“My confidence wanes more and more every moment we’re out here,” Ashur said, shaking his head as Magnus bound the wound on his hand. “But I will remain hopeful awhile longer.”
“My expectations are extremely low,” Magnus said. “Even if we manage to contact this Valia, we have no idea if she can help us.”
“I suppose,” a calm, cool, feminine voice said, “you could start by asking me nicely. I do value proper manners, especially in young men.”
Magnus turned around slowly to see a beautiful woman now standing behind them in the shadows of the trees. She wore a long black silk cloak, a color that matched her long hair. Her skin was pale in the moonlight, her cheeks high, her chin pointed. Her lips were stained a dark red.
“You’re Valia,” Magnus said.
“I am,” she replied.
“Prove it.”
“Prince Magnus!” Bruno said with a gasp. “We must speak respectfully to Valia.”
“Or what?” he asked, keeping his gaze steadily on the witch’s. “Will she turn me into a toad?”
“I don’t think you’d make a very good toad,” Valia said as she moved closer, eyeing them one at a time.
Ashur bowed his head. “We are honored by your presence, my lady.”
“See?” Valia raised a brow toward Magnus. “This one knows how to behave in the presence of great power.”
“Is that what you have? Great power?” Magnus’s patience for a common witch—and he had no reason yet to believe she was anything but that—was quickly dissipating.
“It depends on the day, really,” she said. “And the reason I’ve been summoned.”
“Or perhaps you simply lurk in the shadows waiting for Bruno to bring you willing victims.” He sneered at her. “Are you about to ask us for coin in order to perform your magic? If so, you can spare your breath. Save it for a poetry reading or singing a song during the festival.”
“I have more than enough coin to not have any need of more.” Valia approached Taran now, her thin dark brows drawing together as she studied him. Taran remained as still as a statue as she reached toward him and traced her finger along one of his glowing white lines.
“Very interesting,” she said.
“Do you know what this is?” he asked.
“Perhaps.”
“And can you help me?”
“Perhaps.”
Magnus laughed out loud, drawing a sharp look from the witch. “You know, do you? And what exactly do you think it is?”
“This young man is currently possessed by the air Kindred.” Valia took Taran’s right hand in hers, turning it over so she could see the spiral air magic mark on his palm. “And yet he still has control of his body and mind. How interesting.”
Magnus found he did not have an immediate reply for this.
She was far more knowledgeable than he’d expected.
He squinted in the darkness. Something seemed odd about the woman. At first glance, she appeared to be beautiful and young, but her features were too perfect, her skin too unblemished and flawless.
If she was an exiled Watcher and not just a common witch, that might explain it.
But her left hand—it wasn’t the hand of a mortal, it was the taloned foot of a hawk.
“Your hand . . .” he said, his breath drawing sharply in as he realized what he was looking at.
“My hand?” Valia held out her hands in front of her. “Do you see something odd about them?”
Magnus shook his head, now seeing only two graceful hands with short, perfectly manicured fingernails.
“Nothing,” he said, frowning deeply. “My apologies.”
Valia drew closer to him, taking Magnus’s hand in hers and unraveling the handkerchief he’d wrapped around his bloody wound.
“Let me help with that.” She pressed her palm against his. A glowing light appeared, and sudden pain sliced through his skin. He wanted to pull away, but he forced himself to remain still. When she removed her hand, his wound had healed.
“All right,” he said, trying very hard to keep his tone steady and controlled. She had enough earth magic within her to be able to heal just like Lucia could. “You’re for real.”
Valia didn’t reply. She took his hand in hers again. “Where did you get this?” she asked, touching the golden bloodstone ring on his finger.
Magnus took his hand away. “It was a gift from my father.”
“Quite a valuable gift,” she said, raising her gaze to meet his. “Many would kill for a ring like this. Many have killed for it.”
“You know what this is,” he whispered.
“I do.”
“What?”
“Dangerous,” she replied. “As dangerous as the one who created it with his death magic and necromancy a thousand years ago.”
He found he couldn’t speak for a moment. Silence stretched between them until he found his voice again.
“Just how old are you, Valia?” Magnus asked. Bruno had said he hadn’t seen her for three decades, yet she appeared only a handful of years older than Ashur.
She smiled, her green eyes sparkling with amusement. “That is a not a question a gentleman should ask of a lady.”
“I’m no gentleman.”
“Take care of that ring, Prince Magnus. Wouldn’t want someone to steal it away from you, would we?” Valia turned to Taran again, her gaze moving over the white lines on his throat and hand. “So, you want my help. And you think I would willingly become involved with this?”