“I need to talk to Walt first. See if Allan is here. Get… permission.” Prospero pulled her shoulders back. “I appreciate revenge, Sondre. On that we are in accord, but we need a plan to protect our citizens first. I need to be sure Crenshaw is secure. I can’t have Ellie in peril, too.”
At those words, Sondre looked at her with more sympathy than he typically thought she deserved. He held her gaze. “Your wife will be safe within the castle, but we both know how deadly she can be. Take her.”
“She has classes and—”
“She’s not any more likely to sit by idly than you are.” He swallowed, hoping he wasn’t about to have an emotional woman on his hands. Prospero never saw reason when Brandeau was the topic. He wouldn’t blame Prospero for striking out at someone, but that didn’t mean he wanted to be the target. He certainly didn’t want to be the one to comfort her. Even now, they weren’t actual friends, merely occasional accomplices.
Prospero’s expression gave nothing away. After a moment, she said only, “She is integral to Crenshaw, Sondre. Keep her safe. Keep them all safe. I will speak to you once there is a hunting plan.”
Then she whirled away and left with not another word.
He was grateful that he hadn’t had to deal with either her rage or tears, and for a moment he wouldn’t admit later, he felt sympathy for her—and gratitude that he wasn’t on her hunting list.
11Prospero
Prospero had stopped outside Crenshaw Castle, pacing there as if she were a surly guard dog. The agitation roiled under her skin.I am stronger than this.She actively shoved her panic into that cold place deep inside that she had been using to store emotions since she was a young woman unwillingly wed.
I do not break.
She needed to talk to Walt. To decide what to do about Ellie, but she was in one of the remedial-magic classes right this moment—which seemed ludicrous, because she was far from remedial. Bureaucracy was eternal, though.
Is Sondre right? Do I take her with me? She’s not as dangerous as everyone thinks… She trapped me. No one else has done that. But Ellie could only do that because I was distracted by my heart.
Prospero was ready to march through the castle and jerk Ellie out of class, so the sudden tingle of magic from the Barbarian Lands was a welcome distraction when it washed over her.
“Need the headmaster already?” the hob called before his body appeared. When he did materialize, he stood atop a finial on the staircase of the castle like a miniature statue.
“No. He’s busy. Tell Sondre where I’ve gone, and if you could tell… Walt, I suppose?” Prospero scowled at not having a clear protocol for retrieval now. Criminals were taken to Aggie for justice, or to Mae if they were injured. Right now, Prospero couldn’t go to the infirmaryorconsult Aggie.
I’ll figure it out.
She closed her eyes for a long blink and let her body follow the tug of magic. It was a singular feeling to not know where she’d be upon arrival. Often, she appeared at hospitals or grisly accidents. A few times, she’d arrived as the fallen witch was being beaten or stabbed. Those were the hardest ones.
She shoved old memories and thoughts of Ellie away as she opened her eyes.
Unexpectedly, Prospero realized that she was standing in a bookshop. There was no doubt that there was a witch in this building, though. Well, either that or someone had been gardening in the wrong place entirely. The center of the shop, where only the hip-high display tables of books were, had become a swamp. At her feet, black water swirled, and various waterlogged books floated by like leaves in a stream.
Prospero’s heart tightened at the thought of wasted books. Sure, there was an informational library in Crenshaw, but fiction? That was harder to find. She glanced down at the floating books, admiring the glossy covers that still hadn’t been ruined. She fished a couple out and put them in her pockets to take home.Maybe Ellie could repair them for me.A longing rose up; sometimes Prospero wanted only simple pleasures, like curling up with Ellie and reading for hours.
Something less book-like swam by, and Prospero wondered what creature was under the swampy water. The few people in the store werecrouching on tables, so she suspected the thing under the water wasn’t something she particularly wanted to encounter. Reptile? Rat? Wherewasthis bookshop? All she could say for certain was that the majority of the titles on the nearest tables were in English, but that detail was not a particularly helpful clue. There were English-language books in a lot of places.
With one last pining look at the plethora of books all around her, Prospero strode through the knee-high water toward a staircase that was currently covered in what looked like poison-ivy vines. Trying not to touch the toxic vines, Prospero climbed up the leaf-strewn steps to the second floor of the building.
Whichever witch this was, they were affiliated with the agricultural house, Dionysus and Jörd.WasAllan the man with the gun?
As Prospero turned around a shelf on the landing of the second floor, she saw a witch sitting on a giant marshmallow with a tower of books sticking out of the fluff.
“Jaysen?” Prospero stared at him as she approached.
He looked up. “Why are you all bloody?”
“Because you people shot my friend, Jaysen.”
“Didn’t do it. I’m, like, an innocent bystander.” Jaysen had his hair in a long braid, the end tail of which was caught in the fluff. He looked more stressed than threatening. “I just came along for information. Well, that and Allan said so. He’s the head of house, you know?”
Prospero eased closer. “Did Allan shoot Scylla?”
“Yeah… Jenn couldn’t. I couldn’t.” Jaysen shrugged. “She was in the way.”
