When they were well away, a wicked smile split the younger wizard's face—a look of absolute and remorseless pride. "I did whatno oneelse could," he spat. "What no one elsewould. Not that it's any of your traitorous business."
Icarus felt his brow dip, furrowing into the other, trying to make sense of his words. But as he stared at him, the confident set of his jaw, the villainous gleam in his eye, the pieces shifted. Slowly, a trickle of understanding settled in. "The Magnus grimoire, Cyrus found it?"
"Ifound it, and the instructions within. Now all I need is Arabella and the omnis stone."
At this, Icarus's heart leapt toward his throat. The omnis stone hadn't been seen for centuries, not since the age of Unity, back when the Wizards and Witches were still allied and Calami Tower had been freshly built. Last seen at the start of the Magnus Wars, it was rumored to be gone, lost, destroyed, hopeless cause, but then again so was the grimoire. If Calder found one, what was to stop him from . . .Icarus shuddered at the unfinished thought. An idea blossomed at the base of his skull. Quietly, he whispered a slicing spell and felt the palm wrapped tight around his augure split down the center and the slow trickle of blood that followed. Trading hands, he moved to rest his wounded palm on Calder’s exposed calf.
"You know where it is?" he pressed, magic coating the words. "The omnis stone."
Calder opened his mouth and the curious burst of orange around his pupil seemed to pulsate, a reluctance that came too late as they'd already flashed towards Calami Tower. A twist of horror and anger came over his handsome face as that gaze moved down to Icarus' hand, to the stealthy grip the man moved to his ankle, magic mixing with blood, and the unspoken compulsion spell he'd cast that set his augere glowing an ethereal gray-blue.
"You fuck!" Calder spat. "You absolute,traitorousfuck!" Thrashing, he yanked his leg from Icarus' grip and clambered to his feet despite the growing stem of blood that trickled out of his wound.
In response, Icarus felt a grim flash of victory erupt in his chest.
"This changes nothing. I have your wand." Calder's words hissed into the night air. From the inner pocket of his overcoat, he withdrew the powerful stick of ashwood. Icarus dove for it, a moment too late, as the flash of a black-winged raven swooped down, grasping the wand in its sharp talons before flapping off again.
“It’s no matter. My compulsion spell will hold against the power of the Pavor wand to keep you from entering Calami’s grounds again. Your hands are tied. You’ve accomplished nothing tonight.” Icarus knew his words rang hollow. Calder had indeed accomplishedsomething,though the extent of it remained a mystery.
“You’re wrong, and I find it strange you didn’t see it before with all that precious knowledge stored inside your big head. The Pavor wand was about much more than getting through the magical boundary. It was the missing ingredient. The key every Darkmore before me has overlooked. When Arabella’s power fully wakes, there's no stopping what she'll become, not with the magic source the wand has unlocked within her. And you can't keep me out of Calami forever. I found a way in once” —His bright eyes flashed to the way Seren and Arabella had gone—“I'll do it again.”
"Leave,Calder.Now.Before this gets messy."
Calder grinned, melding into the shadows, as he seemed to realize he'd, at last, hit his mark, struck a deep chord. He stole one last lingering look at the Tower behind them, his muscles rigid from the compulsion spell working through his veins, growing more powerful by the instant. He wouldn’t be able to resist the magic set on dispelling him from the grounds much longer and the thought brought Icarus a sense of unrivaled satisfaction.
Still, Calder managed his final taunt. “You've forgotten that I know you. I know what goes on in that twisted mind of yours better than anyone else,brother,and it will be your undoing.”
Icarus cringed at the word on Calder's lips and shot to his feet so quickly Eiridis let out a startled hoot and gripped him hard enough that he felt the soft prick of blood at his shoulder, but when he stepped toward the seething dark, ready to hurl a hex at the stranger who he'd once loved so dearly, who'd toddled after him as a child, he found only empty air, tainted with the faintest green glimmer of magic.
Chapter ten
Calder Darkmore
Calhissedashecleaned the wounds Seren’s snake and his brother had inflicted and laughed bitterly. Finally, a physical wound to match the jagged hole Icarus had left ten years ago in his traitorous wake. His senior by six years, Icarus had been his idol. Seeing him tonight had been a shock, but the look in his brother’s eyes when he saw Seren was a look he recognized well. A look he could exploit if given the right opportunity to do so.
He tipped more antiseptic onto the rag and examined his pierced ankle. The compulsion spell keeping him away from Calami that now ran through his veins would be a problem. The brown bottle of medicine shattered against the stone wall before he realized he had thrown it.
His raven familiar flew in the open window and landed on the carved stand close to where the bottle shattered and cawed with righteous indignation. The bird dropped the intricately carved Pavor wand on the stone floor. The clatter echoed around the room.
“Quiet, Horacio,” he commanded as he walked over, one leg stiff, and snatched the wand where it lay. He twirled it between his fingers and limped back to his bed, contemplating the night’s events. He leaned back, the oversized pillows cocooning him. His heavy eyelids drooped despite his efforts to keep them open.
When he had overheard his uncle discussing the unity of the three and the two sisters that could be the key to solving the mystery his father had gone mad trying to piece together, it had intrigued him. Upon meeting Seren and witnessing her power and discovering her connection to Ara, his surety that she was part of the puzzle increased, but it was seeing Ara tonight that confirmed it. He would be the one to unite the three. To finish what his father had started. Perhaps then the emptiness he felt would subside. He rested his head on the pillow behind him, the ache in his leg subsiding. He found he regretted the loss of pain. It was the most he had felt in ages.
The rustling of the grimoire called to him from the bedside table and he jolted up, taking it in his hands and removing the magic that made it small enough to slip into his pocket. “I’d nearly forgotten about you.”
The aged leather was warm in his hands, as if it had been left by a fire despite the room being cold. Despite the changing season, the days had yet to cool off enough to spark a fire in the hearths. The pages were brittle and yellowed with age. The ink was a reddish brown color he suspected might be blood from the way it sometimes flaked from the page. When the book was closed, it whispered to him and when he dreamt; it spoke to him.
Right now, though, it vibrated in what he was sure he could call rage. “I’m sorry. I know you don’t like being squished into my pocket, but I needed you with me tonight.”
For courage.The unspoken words soothed the book in his hands.
He often wondered if he had found it or if it had found him the way it called to him from the deepest depths of the Mistral Hall library that day many months ago.
The sound of heeled boots clicking down the hall and toward his room startled him, and he shoved the grimoire into the wall behind a loose stone. The wand he slid into his pocket, covering it with his damaged shirt. His heart beat erratically as he settled back onto his bed just as the heavy door to his room opened and the headmaster of Mistral Hall stepped through it. As well dressed as his nephew despite the late hour, he cut an imposing figure as he filled the door frame. His coiffed black hair was just beginning to gray at the temple, and he kept his pencil-thin mustache neat. A mustache which now twitched in displeasure.
“Uncle, it’s late.” Cal tucked his injured ankle under his knee, trying not to gasp at the pain, suddenly regretting his longing for its return. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”
Cyrus Darkmore peered down at his nephew, a thick black eyebrow raised. “Indeed it is, and yet the wards notified me you disappeared from campus earlier this evening and reappeared only minutes ago. Where were you?”
