manner as Aunt Vyvian.
Heart thudding, I rally my courage, set down my travel bag by a chair, and take a few tentative steps toward the center of the room as I quickly scan my surroundings.
A large black marble fireplace blazes to one side, overpowering the day’s damp chill. Richly cushioned chairs are grouped before it, an expansive bookshelf set into the adjacent wall. The soft glow of glass-encased torches on iron stands warms the dim gray light streaming in from the windows, and expensive-looking porcelain vases are placed artfully throughout the room. Everything is in the traditional Gardnerian colors—deep red for the blood of our people spilled by the Evil Ones, green for the subdued wilds, smatterings of Ironflower blue, and the ever-present black to symbolize our many years of oppression.
Thunder rumbles in the distance.
Mage Grey half turns, one hand resting gracefully on the windowsill as she gives me a slow once-over. She’s intimidatingly beautiful, fine as a painting, her black velvet tunic conservatively high in the collar, and both her tunic and long-skirt devoid of embellishment. Her green eyes bore into me, hard and cold as wintry glass. I can see now where Lukas gets his stunning looks, his fiercely commanding presence. The shock of white-silver running through Mage Grey’s ebony hair only intensifies her severe beauty.
I struggle to keep my confidence from wilting before her.
She continues to look me over slowly, like some unwanted insect she’s fighting the urge to crush, as I wait for her to say something. After a moment, she turns away, brings one hand to her waist, and peers back out the window toward her fine gardens and view of the ocean beyond.
“Do you have any idea, Mage Gardner,” she says, her voice all tight control, “how many young women would have given anything to fast to my son?”
My throat goes dry. I’m not sure how to respond. The black enameled clock on the fireplace mantel seems to be waiting for my answer as well, impatiently ticking to break the silence.
Evelyn Grey turns away from the window to peer at me once more. “Yet he chose someone who had to be physically restrained, actually held down, before she could be fasted to him.”
Anger sparks like flint to steel. Yes, well, he forced me. And I’d have struck your wretched son down and escaped if I had control of my magic.
Her frown tightens. “He regrets fasting to you.” She says it calmly enough, but I catch the desperation clawing at the edges of her tone as she glares at me like I’m some evil thing who’s imprisoned her son. “You should see the look that comes over his face when your name is mentioned. He bitterly regrets it.”
Nausea rises and burns at the back of my throat as I remember why I’m here. If I don’t secure Lukas’s protection, the Vu Trin will kill me.
“I wasn’t myself at the fasting,” I force out, struggling to keep my anger at bay. “My uncle had just died. It’s taken me a while to get over that, and... I think Lukas will understand.”
Her eyes go wide and she nods with theatrical pleasantry. “Will he, now?” Her lip lifts, her eyes narrowing into verdant shards of ice. “A warm reception he gave you, was it?”
I shrink under her mocking glare.
“Where have you been, Mage Gardner?” Her voice has gone hard as stone.
The question catches like a hook in my throat. She’s watching me, still as a cat.
“I...I just came from the Keltish Province...” I start, remembering to use Keltania’s new name. “I was with Lukas...”
“No,” she cuts in, acid edging her tone. “You know what I mean.”
My mind whirls into chaos.
“He fasts to you and seals the fasting,” she continues, “but you run off and let the Sealing spell go fallow with no consummation.” Her eyes flick down at my unmarked wrists. “I can’t seem to get a straight answer out of my son regarding where you went and why you rejected him in such a brazen manner,” she continues, “so I’m asking you. This past month. Where were you?”
I will myself to form a coherent thought, scrabbling to unearth the excuse I’ve readied. “I was trying to find a way to contact my brothers,” I lie.
“Ah, yes, the traitors.”
I nod stiffly.
“And did you find a way?” There’s cloying sarcasm in her tone.
I shake my head, grief stabbing at me. No, you witch, I didn’t, I anguish. I don’t know where they are. I don’t even know if they’re