Vaasa screamed, and Ozik’s chair hissed against the ground as he stood.
Vaasa breathed heavily through her nose, trying to will the pain away without moving further.
“I raised you to be an active participant in the schemes around you,” Ozik said. “I know you are capable.” His measured footsteps echoed on the rug-covered floor until he was just in front of her. Hands landing on the table, he leaned into her space. His eyes inspected the stream of blood pouring down Vaasa’s fingers, catching his gaze upon the place where the utensil stuck out of her mangled hand. Tears welled in Vaasa’s eyes, and one escaped in a droplet that ran down her cheek.
A carnal smile crossed Ozik’s lips. “You are not strong enough to burrow that deep into our connection. Remember the consequence of breaking a bargain with a Zetyr witch.”
Death.
Vaasa winced, looking down at the table again, eyes focusing on the rings upon Ozik’s fingers. The jewels glared back brightly at her, and it was all she could do to keep her eyes open. In her mind, she began to count the gems on each one. Every number was a piece of her sanity, every breath a reminder she was alive. Ozik’s fingers flexed. Her eyes caught upon one ring in particular: a black stone ring with raw edges that made the stone look like it had been broken off a larger piece. There was a subtle churning in the vast darkness of it, and despite herself, Vaasa committed it to memory.
Ozik tsked again, and the fork slid further into her hand, causing Vaasa to cry out in pain as the metal prongs dug deeperinto the table beneath her palm. Her breath came out as a hiss between her teeth. She didn’t say anything. She focused on her breathing instead, her eyes watering from the sharp tremors shooting up her hand. She swallowed back more tears, but Lord Vlacik’s sharp blue eyes appeared in her mind.
The feel of iron scraping over her throat. Of blinding pain in her hands and feet.
“Brace yourself,” Ozik said.
He tore the fork from her hand, and Vaasa let out a strangled scream.
Magic reared up in her stomach, immediately responding to the pain, to the pounding of her heart. Vaasa gasped as power flooded her body—her stomach, her veins, her chest. It tingled on her hands. The spider’s web in her body turned to writhing serpents, hisses echoing in her ear and mind.
Black mist leaked from Vaasa’s fingers, coasting over the table around her dinner napkin. It morphed in front of her, soft sibilations growing louder with each second, until snakes slithered across the table.
Ozik had given her magic back.
She tried to hold it within her, to temper the rage of the power with the calmness she needed to master. But she couldn’t. Her magic was a waterfall, returning angry and unstoppable. The pain in her stomach almost matched the fork that had been in her hand. Black snakes trailed along the table in scurrying waves. They rose and rose and rose—
“Strike me, and I will strike back,” Ozik warned.
Vaasa snapped her eyes to meet his. Her hands squeezed shut, blood running through her fingers.
The serpents on the table halted. They moved their heads back and forth in agitated esses, waiting, craving the violence brewing within Vaasa.
Ozik straightened. He reached for her hand, eyes catching on the blood that stained the white tablecloth. Vaasa recoiled.
“Sit still,” Ozik commanded. His fingers snapped around her hand. Power pulsed forth from him, and the cords between them pulled taught.
You are in control, she whispered in her own mind.
Her fingers dug into the tablecloth, and she took note of the feel of the fabric against her skin. It was a poor excuse for grounding, but it was the best she could do. The feeling of his magic crawling through her body was almost too much to bear, but Vaasa forced herself to breathe through it. To remember everything Melisina had taught her.
Like he was a Zuheia witch all on his own, the wound on her hand sewed itself back together.
Vaasa gasped, heart thudding against her chest. She stared at the result of his unrestrained magic—a smooth, scarless hand absent of even the remnant of the cut the archbishop had dealt. It all made a mess of her mind.
“How?” Vaasa managed through the burning in her gut.
He only lifted his golden eyes, though there was a tinge of something there, a redness creeping into his irises. An exhaustion overtaking his frown. “You have two days before the lords arrive. Read your brother’s correspondence, and perhaps I will show you.”
He pulled at her magic like it was a noose around her neck. The black mist within her rushed down whatever bound her to Ozik, entering those cords and draining away as if on a whim. She was empty.
Ozik stepped away from the table, sauntering wordlessly to the door. She almost got up to follow him. Almost gave in to her younger self, who reached for whatever information he could offer. Answers were a refuge Vaasa desperately wanted.
She stood from the table and began toward her family’s chambers, determination steeling her spine.
CHAPTER
6
