But popularity aside, Ragnarwaspowerful. And not someone I’d want to cross.
Eight years ago when divisions among provinces really started to get bad, a group of Illusionists from Iluze had broken across their border with us in the middle of the night. Their advances had quickly turned violent when they were caught by a couple of border guards.
I witnessed the attack firsthand. Our house wasn’t too far from Lake Leznem, the sole border between Iluze and Feywood, and I’d been collecting herbs nearby for a new potion I wanted to try. I would never forget the way the border guards had been stopped dead in their tracks by the powerful Illusionist magic, frozen in fear by some invisible mirage conjured for them and them alone. All I could see from my hidden spot behind a thicket of trees was the guards falling to their knees before the Illusionists, their faces contorted in horror. Screams pierced the air and made me cover my ears to stem the onslaught of terror that coursed through my body.
I hadn’t been able to move. I wanted to run for help, to do something to save those innocent men, but something about the Illusionists and their power had been so hauntingly familiar. They dredged up murky memories from the darkness of my past, leaving me useless and cowering in the grass and dirt.
Someone from the village had heard the attack and summoned Ragnar. I vividly remembered the image of my uncle charging to the lake side, his black cloak billowing behind him as his face lit with rage. A weight like a charging horse slammed into my chest, the very air sucked from the entire clearing, the taste of magic sweet and sticky on my tongue. I could taste it even now, eight years later.
In a heartbeat, all seven Illusionists laid sprawled on the ground, their arms and legs bent at horrific angles. The memory still spiked my pulse, the sound of their cracking bones just as sharp as it was almost a decade ago. Watching them writhe on theflattened grass with the shadow of my uncle looming over them, fury like ice across his hard features…
Perhaps this Decemvirate, Feywood stood a chance at winning.
When Ragnar met my stare a few yards down the street from where I strolled, he raised his eyebrows and tilted his head with an exasperated expression I knew far too well. I sighed. What had I done this time?
“Well, hello, Uncle,” I said pleasantly, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear as I approached him.
He shot me a look that said he wasn’t buying my act and turned on his heel to fall into step beside me. “I heard some interesting news from Madeline Bailey’s father today.”
“Oh?”
“Turns out, the poor girl has been sick all week. Headaches, can’t eat, has a terrible rash. He said it began after she purchased a sleeping tonic from the Arcane.” He glanced at me out of the corner of his eye. “Care to explain?”
“Sounds like she’s come down with something,” I said with a shrug.
“Rose.”
I rolled my eyes. “Honestly, of all the things the two of us have done, this wouldn’t even make the top five worst.”
He grunted, and I pursed my lips to hide a smile. My uncle and I shared a similar sense of retribution, a fondness for bending rules and living in a gray area between proper and…well, poison, in my case.
“Be that as it may, I can’t have you using mine and your aunt’s business anytime someone crosses you?—”
“Crossesme?” I scoffed. “Youdoremember what Madeline did to Beau, right?”
He furrowed his brow. “Well, I knew he was keen on the girl. He was upset when she got engaged to that Nathaniel fellow.”
I sighed and gave my uncle a pat on the shoulder as we walked. Ragnar and Morgana loved their son, but more often than not, parents never truly saw into the lives of their teenage children. “Beau and Madeline had been seeing each other for months. He found out she’d cheated on him with Nathaniel three nights before the two announced their engagement. Did Mr. Bailey happen to tell youthatpart of the story?”
Ragnar blinked at me, the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes deepening in thought. “No, he didn’t. Nor did Beau. I—I had no idea.” He rubbed at the scruff on his jaw. “Is that why he’s been so…temperamental?”
“He’s only a kid,” I said softly. “He was embarrassed and heartbroken, and probably didn’t want to run to his parents about his love life. He’ll be okay. He’s doing much better now, but right after it happened, he was a mess. When I saw Madeline in the shop last week, I just…well, you heard.” I snuck a peek at Ragnar, wondering how upset he was going to be with me. He had a point—it wasn’t my best move, using their shop as a means to get revenge.
Hindsight, and all.
His face was unreadable. We walked in silence for a minute as we turned the corner and the Arcane appeared up ahead.
“So, how much foxglove did you give her?” he finally asked.
“I never said it was foxglove.”
“I know you, Rose. When you’re being petty, you use foxglove.”
I feigned offense, clutching my chest. Perhaps I was more predictable than I thought. “Petty? I was going forvindictive.”
He tapped his nose, eyes sparkling. “If you’re vindictive, you go for the bones.”
A grin broke across my face. The fact that we could now joke about that day in the clearing, the day he’d mutilated those Illusionists and broken almost every bone in their bodies, spoke volumes of our twisted humor. “Noted. And, for your information, I didn’t give herthatmuch—only a pinch in her tea leaves. It should be wearing off soon.” As much as the words pained me to say, I added a quick, “I’m sorry, Uncle. I reacted rashly.”
