Bound herself to him, as her curse forbade her to ever show her real face to anyone, save her victims. And since she had no victims on this ship, she was now enslaved to him.
Screeching, she tried to change forms to flee. But it didn’t work.
More than that, she wasn’t the first of her kind that Devyl had bound in such a manner. “Mara?”
She manifested his spirit scepter and handed it to him so that the wolf skull at the top of the yard-long staff faced the sky. Crowned in gold and feathers and encrusted with radiant jewels, the scepter had been the most sacred object at Tintagel. For many, many reasons, and not just because his ancestors had embedded it in their battle shields and thrones.
With this totem, generations of Tintagel kings had bound, held, and commanded countless demons, spirits, and ghouls. It was said to be even more powerful than Solomon’s key and seal combined.
And it was deep in the jaws of the skull that the holder of the scepter placed his harthfret on the day ownership passed to him or her.
Something they never spoke of until the heir of the scepter was old enough to understand the repercussions of allowing anyone else to know exactly what the staff was and how powerful a talisman they would inherit. This had been the symbol of the Dumnonii people.
Every generation of his family, from the beginning, had offered their own blood sacrifice to the wand, and with it, they had become one of the most powerful families of the British Isles.
Until Vine had viciously slain him. Thinking his harthfret was a piece of jewelry and not knowing he was strong enough to regenerate without it, she’d stolen his mother’s necklace he’d worn and cast his scepter away, never knowing what it really was. Any more than Mara knew now as she handed it over to him.
But this …
This was the key to his soul and power.
With that in mind, he snatched one of Strixa’s black owl feathers from her cloak and placed it in the brightly colored crown that haloed the skull.
“You are mine until I free you.”
She let loose a venomous hiss of fire, yet because he controlled her, it couldn’t harm him. He held the scepter up to catch the fire and be charged by her anger.
It glowed like a second sun.
Baring her fangs, she raised her arms and shrank away from it as if it burned her. “Do you really think that paltry stick’s magic can protect you?”
“Not really, but I find it to be a most apt bludgeoning weapon should the occasion call for it.” He raked a meaningful sneer down her body. “Shall we test it?”
That succeeded in calming her a bit, as she wasn’t sure whether or not he meant that threat. While he didn’t relish the thought of doing battle with a woman, he wasn’t about to lie down and let another cut his throat. He liked to think that he learned from his experiences, and that was one particular event even he was definitely not eager to repeat.
She curled her lip. “What do you want of me?”
“Calm seas. Cessation of the water sprites, and a few more of your feathers.”
“Feathers?” She drew her brows together into a perfect baffled expression. “Why?”
“For me to know and you to give. Do we have an accord?”
Her gaze slid from him to Santiago’s ship in the distance before a slow smile spread across her face.
“Don’t think it. ’Tis too late for you to seek their blood for your freedom. You’re bound already.” That was the beauty of his people. The ability to control her kind and bind them was instinctive. It was what had allowed Mara to combine her life force to his on the day they met. Unfortunately, she’d been too young and inexperienced with her powers at the time to do it properly.
He wasn’t so foolish.
And the water witch belonged to him now.
Baring her fangs again, she showed him the sight of her true hideous form. “You will regret this.”
“I do most things I choose.” He smiled coldly in her face. “Now give me your word or I’ll bind you to something very uncomfortable for a long, long time.”
“You wouldn’t dare!”
“Care to try me?”
