people?” She holds her hand, palm out, toward the crowd at the door.
“I think you know.”
The Healer lifts my hands from Eloise’s torso and rolls her onto her side. I stare at my blood-stained hands, memorizing the dark red and brown patterns. Heat races across my shoulders and up my neck. I shudder and clench my hands into tight fists.
Whoever did this will pay.
Mother turns to our audience. “This man wishes to speak to me privately. Please leave us.”
Not one person protests. They just go. They do whatever Mother asks of them, like she knew they would.
I wonder if they even realize they have no control over their actions? What do they feel when she takes control of their desires? Does it frustrate them as it does me? Does it fill them with anger or are they resigned to it?
“Shall we go too, Malin?” Oliver asks. I jerk my head toward the shadow in the corner, where my guards stand. How odd. I wonder why Mother’s request didn’t affect them?
“Wait in the hallway,” Mother says. As much as I don’t want to leave Eloise, I want to respect Henry wishes and begin to follow the Healer toward the door.
“Lark, you stay.” Defeat peppers Henry’s words.
I look to Mother for permission. She dips her head and I resume my position next to Eloise.
“What is it, Henry? I have things to attend to. Funerals to plan and a public hall to repair. I don’t have time for my traitorous brother.”
“They were coming for you and Lark. To expose you. They want control of the State.”
Mother lifts her chin and narrows her eyes. “Who? The Light witches?”
“Malin.” My uncle’s voice cracks as he keeps his eyes fixed on something in the distance. “We’ve completely lost control of the Light witches.”
Mother’s body quivers and she presses her lips into a tight line. “Is Patrick still in charge?”
A slight shake of the head. “Patrick was never more than a figurehead, you know that, and Beck is just a boy.”
Beck’s name rolls through my body and stabs at my heart with the precision of a well-cast destruction spell.
“Who’s leading them? Eamon?” Mother clips her words. Forcefully. Strong.
“Yes.” Henry’s olive eyes flash with anger. “He called Eloise and me traitors for helping Lark. He attacked us.” He rests his hand on Eloise’s leg. “He attacked Eloise. He did this to her.” Henry and Mother exchange a look that tells me there is more to this story.
“So you fled here? Why?”
Henry runs a trembling hand through his ash-coated hair. “No. That’s not right.” He’s rambling, barely making coherent sentences. “Eamon followed us. I should have known, but Beck was so determined and Eloise, she…”
“What about Beck?” I ask.
“He said Malin’s been misleading you.” Henry’s eyes drill into mine and he taps his temple in an inconspicuous way.
Before I can stop her, Mother turns her magic on Henry and he crumples to the ground in pain. He clasps his hands over his head and a guttural cry rips from his throat. “How dare you!” she shouts. “I love Lark. I’m helping her remember who she is!”
“Stop it! What are you doing?” I scream. My fists pummel Mother’s back as I try to break her flow of magic.
“Henry needs to be punished, Lark. If you can’t watch, it’s best you leave.”
“He says you’re scaring him,” Henry whispers.
Mother releases her energy and Henry falls onto his back, gasping for air. “What did you say?”
Henry presses his lips together in refusal. But I heard him. Is it possible Beck can hear me, but I can’t hear him?
Energy radiates from Mother again and Henry screams in agony.
“Stop!” I yell, but Mother unleashes her special form of torture again.
Fire fills my core. Wave after wave of energy washes over me and I gather it to myself.
“I said, stop.” My voice vibrates and bounces off the walls. It shatters the glass jars sitting on the cabinet.
Mother staggers backward under my attack. She doubles over and gasps. “Well played, Lark. Well played.”
I don’t have time for her games and quickly move around the bed so that I stand between Mother and Henry. Her next attack on him will have to go through me. I stare down at my uncle. “You said Eamon followed you. Who did he follow?”
“Me, Eloise...and Beck”
“But I saw him.” I sputter. “With Eamon.”
Henry glances at Mother, a small frown on his lips. “Eloise and Beck thought maybe, if they could find you, Lark, you’d run away with them. But Eamon and his