The car drove through large iron gates, the metal teased into a beautiful motif of roses and razor-sharp thorns. The bastion was exactly like she expected, with old brick, stairs leading to a flat roof and turrets. It had been adapted into living quarters, cutting off from the main castle to allow for some privacy. Enchantments had been carved into every brick, protection spells that seemed to burn like ember in her peripheral, but were dark as coal when stared straight on.
She was escorted through the large oak doors, also enchanted and down the hall to where Frederick relaxed back in a velvet armchair. He didn’t smile when she appeared, or even look up from the newspaper he was reading. He lifted a single hand, dismissing Bane who closed the door behind him with a click.
“Councilman,” she greeted politely, taking in the room with one quick sweep. “I’m sorry If I’m late.”
The walls inside were the same stone, but paintings and tapestries full of colour had been hung to chase away the cold. An oversized hearth burned behind Frederick, the fire spluttering.
“I see you are well,” he said as he carefully folded the newspaper, settling it onto his lap. “You gave us quite a scare when Bane found your flat empty.”
Kyra waited for him to finish.
“He has made it quite clear that those threats have upset you greatly. To show my concern for your welfare I would offer you a room here until we can find another suitable replacement to your flat.”
“You… you want me to move in here?”
The newspaper disappeared with a click of his finger. “Of course, I wouldn’t want harm to come to my favourite witch, would I?” A snigger.
“No, thank you. You were right, they were nothing to fear.”
Frederick patted down his ruffled shirt, more at home on the front cover of a pirate romance novel than a powerful witch. “You turn down my hospitality? After everything I do for you?”
Kyra heard the underlying threat, knew not to speak back even as panic formed words on her tongue. “I appreciate the offer, but no thank you.”
Frederick climbed to his feet, sweeping forward until he was only a step away. “Your change of attitude worries me, should I be worried, Kyra?”
“No… of course not.”
“I forget how delicate women could be, so breakable,” he mused. “You understand that I couldn't tell him no when he chose you? It should be an honour to be picked out amongst the cattle of the others.”
Kyra froze, and when he reached forward to touch her bandaged shoulder she sucked in a pained breath. His thumb pressed down until she felt her skin break, blood darkening the white of the dressing. She swallowed her cry, not wanting to give him the satisfaction.
“Do not embarrass me, Kyra. Dirk is our ally and he cannot witness any weakness between us.”
Kyra took a second to make sure her response was strong, her voice void of pain. “Of course.”
Frederick’s eyes narrowed, his smile cruel as he lifted his hand from her shoulder and clicked. The room around them changed, the walls that were once stone now a clean white paint with walnut panelling. The floor was the same shiny wood, a red rug rolling beneath their feet like a large bloodstain.
“Glamour,” he explained when Kyra looked around. “I grow bored of my surroundings so I like to change them up every now and then. It’s a trick learned from the Fae, the one thing that is marginally useful from them.”
A wand appeared in his hand, the end tinged black as if burnt. He pressed it against the hearth, the only thing in the room that hadn’t changed. Runes appeared in the stone, swirls she didn’t recognise that moved like thick vines, carving their way through until the stone was barely recognisable.
“The walls of my bastion are enchanted, only those I choose can pass into these walls. What we do and say here will remain between these walls.” He held her gaze, a final warning. “No one would ever suspect anything in the home of the Supreme.”
The flames flickered, turning green as Dirk stepped out between the dancing flames, a grin splitting his face.
“Welcome,” Frederick said with a sweep of his arms. He gestured to the new table by armchairs where fresh tea had been poured. “I believe it would be a suitable place to strengthen our business arrangement further.”
Dirk prowled out, leather clothes morphing into identical imitations of Fredericks. It somehow suited him better with his harsher cheekbones, shoulder-length hair and red eyes. Those same eyes settled on Kyra, his appraisal taking his time before he finally took a seat beside the flames, hooking his leg over his knee. “I’ve brought you a parchment,” he said to Frederick, rolling his shoulders as if he missed the weight of his wings.
Smoke appeared in his hand, and as it dissipated it showed a single piece of paper no larger than his palm.
Frederick’s annoyance at the clothes deepened. “That doesn’t look like much? What happened to a grimoire?”
“My knowledge is vast, and mostly locked away behind over a thousand years of memories. We will start with the parchment, and work our way from there. If our arrangement works,” he added. “It would open up many possibilities between our Breeds.”
“Excellent.” Frederick forced a smile. “Then why don’t I reintroduce you to Kyra, the black witch you had chosen as insurance.”
Red eyes settled back on her, and she locked her knees to stop from running.
