Thirty-Six
A few hours later, everyone under my roof assembles in the dining hall. I sit at the head of my table, Sabelle to my right. I can’t touch her, but I feel her near. It’s enough…for now.
Bram sits on my left, the transcast mirror he uses to communicate with the Council on the big mahogany table in front of him, closed. Sterling and Tynan sit just down from Bram. They cannot appear too chummy to the others, but recent events and the horrors of two Councilmen's murders create a bond between them that cannot be ignored. Tynan’s fresh grief for his grandfather settles into the hollows of his face, already deep with sorrow for his love, Auropha, murdered by Mathias several months past.
Across from the them, Raiden Wolvsey sits with a mischievous smile after inquiring about local witches who might be up for a bit of company. I wonder what sort of warrior he can possibly make when he never takes anything seriously.
Bram clearly has the same notion. “Marrok, why don’t you take Raiden and Ronan out for a bit of training? They’re woefully behind.”
Ronan smiles ruefully at his new mate, Kari, then kisses the pretty blonde. Raiden grumbles. Marrok looks more than pleased to have new subjects to torment.
“I’ll help,” Caden volunteers, squeezing Sydney’s hand on his way out.
The younger MacTavish seems thrilled to have newer members of the group to rib. And the Wolvsey twins make such big, easy targets.
Lucan and Duke exchange a glance and follow the group outside. I almost envy them. I’d rather have my arse kicked by one of Marrok’s training exercises or practice my magical fighting skills with Duke than swallow down worry and wonder if my nomination will be rejected today and all will be lost.
Quietly, Sydney and Olivia clear away the last of their evening meal and head to the kitchen. I sit alone with Sabelle and the other three. They can afford to put off the nomination no longer. With every minute that ticks by, Blackbourne and possibly Spencer have more time to devise a counter strategy that will play into Mathias’s hands.
“Ready?” Bram asks with a glance around the table.
My throat closes. Normally, I’d tell these Privileged pricks to sod off, but now… Too much is at stake. So for Gailene, for Sabelle, and for the future, I swallow back the words.
Sterling and Tynan both nod. Then Bram’s stare falls on me. I feel Sabelle at my side, her reassuring presence. I don’t even have to look at her to know that she will catch me if I fall.
“Ready.” I hear the growl in my voice and sigh.
Relax. How the hell will I possibly pass the nomination process if I already sound as if I might take someone’s head off?
With a nod, Bram opens his mirror, touches a few crests, then waves his hand. It expands to something the size of a wall mirror. I rear back, surprised, though I suppose I shouldn’t be. They are, after all, magical. But not many see the inner workings of the Council. Even during the time I studied with Bram as my mentor, I never attended any Council meetings.
A moment later, each Councilman’s face appears on the reflective surface of the mirror beside their crest. Blackbourne with his jet hair and jowls, pale skin, and beady, greedy eyes. I dislike him at once and hold no illusions that the man will ever vote for or with me.
Spencer’s familiar gray face pops up. The elder looks tired, almost defeated. And that is a damn sight better than Helmsley Camden, who looks positively petrified. A moment later, I see why, as Mathias’s golden, almost feline face appears beside the mutton-chopped elder. Camden, never long on courage by all accounts, has the most notorious wizard of the millennium sitting beside him. I know immediately how his vote will fall.
Damn it!
Blackbourne convenes the meeting and begins by addressing Tynan.
“Your grandfather’s loss is a blow to us all,” the elder intones. “His service to magickind was respected, and he will be missed. May he rest in peace.”
“Thank you.” Tynan O’Shea says the words politely, but I see the desire to spit at the disingenuous bastard.
A few short words later, Tynan bows his head and accepts his role on the Council.
Some wizards pray their whole lives to be noticed by this body. To be in Tynan’s place—hell, my own—should engender some reaction. Tynan simply laces his fingers and rests his hands on the table, looking impassive.
“And now to the business of filling MacKinnett’s empty seat,” Blackbourne goes on. “I nominate Mathias d’Arc. He originates from a once-prominent family. No one can dispute that he is a wizard of great talents with the ability to inspire loyalty in others. That he’s returned and is determined to do good and bring change for magickind’s cause will benefit us, particularly since he may be the only one capable of quelling any pending Deprived uprising. Anyone opposed?"
Bram grits his teeth, but nothing else gives away his disgust. The effort it takes him to hold back his fury is obvious. His jaw works silently, as if he’s fighting the spell’s influence to stay diplomatic.
Sterling and Tynan also remain silent. Blasting Mathias now will do no good. He meets the formal qualifications. His mettle will only be tested in the event of a tie as a result of the official vote. His character…only time will prove Blackbourne woefully wrong—after it is too late.
“Splendid,” Blackbourne continues into the silence. “Let Mathias d’Arc’s name be registered in the scrolls. If there are no more nominees, then?—”
“I nominate Isdernus Rykard.”
Bram’s voice rings loud, clear. The words are a blow to my gut. After two centuries of wanting this, hearing my name spoken here and now feels surreal.
