the magic stronger, vibrating around me as it tried to penetrate my defenses. And the figurative probably wasn’t far from the literal there.
I caught the scent of bay rum, felt my gorge rise at the memory of his hands on my body, pushed it down again.
“Would it pain him, do you think, to watch me touch you?”
He took a step forward, lifted his hand to my face. I let my eyes go soft, let him caress the backs of his fingers against my cheek, and worked not to show my disgust.
“You are agreeable tonight. Perhaps because he’s left you. Because you’re available to me.” He stepped forward, his body against mine, obviously aroused, his lips against my cheek. “Will you cry out my name?”
And that, as they said, was enough of that. “Which name is that? Did you mean Julien or Balthasar?”
He froze, hot magic prickling around me. I’d have sworn I felt it surge forward, and be battered back by an answering wave. His magic taking the offensive; the apotrope’s magic pushing it into retreat.
Slowly, he lifted his gaze to mine, his eyes boiling quicksilver. “My name is Balthasar.”
“No, it isn’t. It’s Julien Burrows. You knew Balthasar. Were imprisoned with him.” I looked at the scars at his neck. “Were probably tortured beside him. But you aren’t Balthasar.”
Before I could move back, he knotted his fingers into my hair. “My name is Balthasar. Say it!” he said, jerking my head back. “Say it!”
He sounded earnest. Maybe he thought the pretense was necessary if he wanted to take Cadogan House. Or maybe that was just the magic, slowly transforming whatever might have been left of the man into the one he sought to emulate.
Whether lie or delusion, I was done being a pawn. “You are not Balthasar.”
He yanked my hair again, reared back to slap me with his free hand. I blocked the shot with my forearm, and he dropped my hair in surprise. We broke apart, but I’d snagged the raven bracelet on his jacket. It broke open and fell to the ground.
No longer dammed, his magic spilled across me like dark wine, and suddenly the air was too thick to breathe. I hit the ground on my knees, sucking in air as his magic, angry and biting, spun around me like a typhoon. He wanted me under his control, imprisoned by his magic, a pawn he could use.
My instinct was to fight, to strike out and strike back, to push his magic back with magic of my own, however poor an opponent it would have been. And then I remembered what Lindsey had reminded me.
“You’re a rock in the current,” I heard her say, either from memory or through the earpiece I still wore. “Let his magic flow around you. It doesn’t penetrate, doesn’t affect you, just moves like the breeze.”
There on the ground, mud seeping through the knees of my dress, I closed my eyes and let my breath come softly, in and out.
His magic advanced again, determined to cow me, control me. I acknowledged his magic, took its measure. It was hot, biting, and remarkably insistent. Rejection made him push harder, but I made no answer. I was sweating with the effort of not responding, ignoring every instinct to fight against the glamour that sluiced over me like suffocating water, that sought to convince and compel.
Like a breeze, I said to myself. Like a breeze. Maybe I was no longer immune to glamour, but I was still stubborn. Those words became my mantra, and I repeated them over and over as the barrage continued.
As suddenly as it had begun, the magic dissipated. In apparent shock that he hadn’t managed to move me, Julien had dropped the glamour, stepped back.
I opened my eyes again, breathed deeply, and found his magic had fouled the air with bitterness.
“Bitch,” he said, chest heaving from the effort. “You bitch. I own you, just like I own him.”
“I’m not a bitch for saying no, Julien. You’re just an asshole.”
Fury rolled across his face. “I am Balthasar.”
“You are Julien Burrows.”
We both glanced back, found Ethan behind us. His expression was utterly blank, but his body was primed and ready for battle.
“You bastard,” Julien said.
“I’m not,” Ethan said. “And as Merit explained, we already know who you are. We know the Circle is paying for you to be here. We know about the Memento Mori, your time with them. And we know about Reed.”
To his credit, Julien took a step back, breathed deeply, and