It was cold to the touch. The light inside had dimmed to barely a glimmer.
“What in all the—” I checked another crystal, then another. All were losing their enchantment, the magic draining away like water through a sieve.
Quandary leapt from the windowsill, flying over to land on the workbench beside me with a soft thud. He nudged one of the failing crystals with his snout, then jerked back with a hiss.Burned!
“Are you alright?”
“Yes, but it’s hot!”
I bent closer, examining the crystal’s surface. A faint darkness swirled beneath its facets, like berry juice dropped in clear water.
“This isn’t normal.” I picked up the crystal, turning it in the light. “Something’s interfering with my magic.”
Quandary’s tail twitched, his eyes fixed on the crystal.I wonder…He peered around, then flew to the floor, where he began scratching at the stones.
“What are you doing? You’ll hurt your?—”
I spotted what he was trying to show me. In the shadowed corner where the floor met the wall, I spied a faint marking. Not dirt or dust, but something etched into the stone itself. A rune, or part of one.
I knelt beside him, running my fingertips over the mark. It was cold, unnaturally so, and seemed to absorb the light around it. “This wasn’t here a few days ago.”
You’re right.
“Can you find more?” I asked, knowing his eyes were sharper than mine.
He scurried around the room, his head low, sniffing at corners and seams in the stonework. I followed, discovering more marks hidden in shadows, beneath the windowsill, behind my workbench, along the edgeof the door. Separately, they looked like nothing more than scratches, but when I mentally connected them…
“It’s a containment sigil.” Cold sweat slithered down my spine. “A blood magic rune for trapping and diverting magical energy.”
Blood magic?Quandary asked with a shiver.
The mere thought of it made my skin crawl. While joy magic drew power from positive emotions and life energy freely given, blood magic stole it through pain and sacrifice. It was forbidden in most kingdoms, Kieran’s included.
Someone had been in my workshop, drawing blood runes to sabotage my magic. And not just any runes, but ones specifically designed to target joy magic.
I scrambled to my feet, my heart pounding. “We need to tell Kieran.”
But as I turned toward the door, it swung open, and he strode inside. His tall frame filled the doorway, his dark hair mussed as if he’d been running his hands through it. The sight of him still made my breath catch.
He’d been busy the past few nights and hadn’t come to bed until long after I’d fallen asleep. I’d begun to believe what we’d shared had been a dream.
“Tell me what?” he asked, his eyes immediately tracking to the scattered crystals and my distressed expression.
“Someone’s been tampering with my magic.” I gestured to the marks Quandary had uncovered. “Blood runes. All around the room.”
Kieran’s expression hardened. He crossed to me in three long strides, taking my hands in his. “Are you alright? Did they hurt you?”
The concern in his voice made warmth flutter through my chest. “I’m fine. But my enchantments are failing. The magic is being drained, and I believe by these runes.”
He released me and knelt to examine one of the marks, tracing the etching with the same care I’d shown. His brow furrowed. “You’re right.”
“You can read them?”
“Not well.” He looked up at me, his blue eyes serious. “But enough to recognize their purpose. Someone’s trying to suppress your magic.”
“But why, and how did they get in here? I’m the only one who uses this tower.”
“That you know of.” He stood, scanning the room. “These runes weren’t placed randomly. They form a pattern.”
