A branch crunched under foot nearby. Ianthe spun, snatching power into herself so rapidly the air almost felt thin. "H–hello? Is anybody there?"
Fog curled across the ground like a translucent blanket. Out of it stepped three figures, all of them cloaked. The lead figure lifted their hands to their hood, revealing a beautiful older woman with dangerous green eyes. "Miss Martin," the woman said. "I trust you came alone."
Ianthe steeled herself. "Of course I did, Morgana. Where is Louisa?"
"Somewhere safe. Where is the Blade?"
"Somewhere hidden," she shot back. After all, she wasn't such a fool as to simply hand it over. This woman was as trustworthy as a snake, and she'd never deal fairly. "The moment Louisa is safely before me, I shall give you the directions to it."
"This is not following the instructions I gave—"
"You said, Come alone, and bring the Blade. Well, I have come alone, and I brought the Blade, though it is hidden for the moment. If you want it, then you have to meet my terms. I'm tired of hiding and lying. I'm tired of looking over my shoulder every second, trying to gauge who in my household I can trust. So you either take my terms, or leave here with nothing."
"What's to stop you from betraying us?"
"I'm not the one with untrustworthy credentials," Ianthe retorted.
A long moment of silence stretched out. "Do step forward, Sebastian," Morgana called over her shoulder with a dry note of annoyance in her voice. "Show Miss Martin that my word can be trusted."
A man stepped out of the darkness, as if he'd been using it as a veil, a small gloved hand tucked in his. The little girl at his side saw her and panicked. "Aunt Ianthe!"
Louisa! Ianthe stepped forward, her heart thundering in her chest, then drew up when both hooded sorcerers at Morgana's side tensed. Everything in her screamed at her to leap forward and wrap her arms around her daughter, but she had to play this correctly.
"The Blade," Morgana purred.
Ianthe tugged a small scroll of paper out of her pocket and held it up. Perspiration dripped down her forehead, a consequence from holding onto so much power for so long without using it. "The directions are written here. I buried it beside a tombstone in the cemetery, but you'll never find it in time without this note." She stretched out her hand in desperation, not daring to make a move. "Come, Louisa. Come to me!"
Louisa shifted forward, clinging to the stranger's hand and eyeing Morgana as one would a snake. Gone was Ianthe's carefree, light-hearted daughter whose only trouble came from her puppy Tubby and the mischief he caused for her at Elsa's. No. This Louisa knew that there was darkness in the world. She had changed in the space of a week, and Ianthe's heart ached for her. Every emotion within her welled up, almost snatching that rush of power out of her control. She wanted to destroy this woman for what she'd done to her daughter, but that was instinct. Expression... Not control. Not sorcery. And it was dangerous.
"Go to your mother, child." Morgana's voice dripped with venom. "Now give me the note. It had best hold the precise location of the relic."
The man, this Sebastian, cocked his head suddenly, as if hearing something no one else could. And the strangest thing was, Ianthe couldn't quite make out his face. An eye-twisting Veil still disguised him, she realized, but why? It had to have come from Morgana, whose talents for deception were unparalleled.
"There's something wrong," he said, his gloved hand curling tightly around Louisa's as the little girl took a step forward. "Something..." He frowned, or at least, Ianthe had the sensation he frowned. "It feels like the temperature of the air just changed."
Both Morgana and Ianthe exchanged a wary look.
"It's not me," Ianthe said, darting a glance at her daughter. She shifted her weight forward. Louisa was barely three yards in front of her.
"I warned you..."
The tension in the air grew tighter. Even Ianthe felt it brushing over her skin. It felt like... lightning. Gathering itself in the distance, felt, but not yet seen. "What on earth?" Was this a trick? A trap?
And then she knew. She'd felt like this before in the foyer of Lady Eberhardt's home when Adrian Bishop had stepped foot over the lintel of the house and come face-to-face with his brother, Lucien.
Lucien. Oh no. For she felt his presence then through the bond. Something her distracted mind hadn't yet discerned until this moment. But why was—?
And then she looked up at the man holding onto Louisa's hand. Knowledge pierced the Veil disguising him. It fell away from her sight, revealing a dangerously handsome man who wore Drake's face. No, not Drake's face. A younger, more perfect version of it, though this Sebastian lacked the warmth that she saw in Drake's eyes. His own were empty, merciless pits, and a shiver trailed down her spine at the sight.
A third son.
The son that Morgana had allegedly aborted, and the very same child that Drake mourned year after year.
A pistol cocked with an audible click, breaking the stalemate, and then Lucien stepped out of the darkness, aiming it directly between Sebastian's eyes. "Release the child," he said in a dark, smoky voice.
"Lucien?" she whispered. "What are you doing here?"
He seemed wrong, somehow. Thin and hazy.
