Sadie gripped his wrist and tugged. “It’s none of your business.”
Reluctantly, he released the amulet, tracing the glyph in his mind, trying to commit it to memory. But he wasn’t giving up. “I don’t know where your grandmother—”or whoever actually made the amulet“—found this glyph, but it isn’t doing you any favors. Your magic isn’t supposed to be bottled up inside you. It is supposed to flow freely and touch the world. This charm could be the reason for whatever happened to you this morning, since I doubt your sickness is anything mundane.”
“My problem this morning was because I stopped using the charm,” she snapped at Nicholas. She stepped back, bumping into the wall behind her.
If she had attempted to move past him, he’d have dropped his ward and let her escape. But he didn’t think she felt trapped so much as defensive. He closed the distance between them again. “That’s exactly what I mean. You’ve caged your magic for so long that it erupted when you loosened that control. If you let it flow freely, it won’t ever be that overwhelming. Keep using that charm, and something like this morning will happen again, at the worst possible moment. Let. Me. Help.”
“You can’t.” She swallowed and looked away. “I can’t.”
With a snarl, he grabbed the amulet once more. This time he held it in his left hand and traced the glyph with the nail of his right pointer finger. Without the proper tools, he couldn’t engrave the glyph deeper into the hard agate, but with his affinity for earth, and with the glyph already etched into the stone, the magic still flowed.
Sadie watched him, her jaw slack.
He released the charm. “It will draw more magic than you can coax into it for a while, but not long. I won’t make you a replacement unless you can convince me that this glyph is actually safe for you. And Sadie? You won’t be able to do that without telling me what your power is and why you think this abomination helps you.”
He dropped the ward, the shimmering blue winking out of existence, but didn’t step back.
Sadie stared at him a moment longer, brown eyes wide, lips parted. Spirits, he wanted to kiss her again. He wanted to pull her close and wrap her in his arms and magic and tell her she was safe with him. But he couldn’t force her to trust him.
Her lips pressed together, and her hand flattened over the amulet. “I can’t. You have to trust me on this, Nicholas.”
“Then we’re at an impasse. I cannot in good conscience duplicate this charm for you when I don’t understand what the consequences might be. Nor can I trust that you are right and it is necessary—not because I don’t trust you, but because you are making decisions without a firm understanding of how magic works.”
“I never asked you to make me a new charm.” The words should have come across as disdainful, but Sadie merely sounded tired.
Nicholas stepped back. “Go rest, Sadie.”
Nineteen
???
Sadie didn’t needto rest. Now that she wasn’t swimming in other people’s thoughts, she felt fine. And without Nicholas right there, she could think clearly, too. Clearly enough that she remembered some of the things she had heard telepathically downstairs that she didn’t want to ignore.
First there were those dark thoughts that had sent her to the drawing room. Sadie wasn’t sure what to do about those. They hadn’t come from the dowager; she was sure of that much. They hadn’t seemed to come from anyone.
With all the talk of the forest being haunted, Sadie couldn’t help but wonder if the disembodied thoughts she had encountered came from a spirit. They had certainly sounded malevolent. Sadie didn’t know enough about spirits to even guess if it was possible for her telepathy to hear one, let alone what to do if there was one haunting the manor.
She’d have to ponder that possibility later. Lenora’s distress at not getting to visit Valway was more critical.
The door to Sadie’s suite opened, and Pippa charged in. “What’s this I hear about you getting sick? What’s wrong? You don’t look sick.”
“I had a bout of dizziness earlier.” Sadie sighed. She was tired of all the lies. “I feel much better now, though.”
“I heard the baron personally escorted you upstairs.” Pippa’s eyebrows waggled. “Is that why you are suddenly feeling better?”
Sadie laughed, half at Pippa’s expression and half at herself and the entire situation. Did she feel better because of Nicholas? Yes. He had traced the glyph on her charm a single time, and now not even a hint of Pippa’s thoughts leaked into her awareness. Also, no. She wanted to confide in him—he made it so hard to maintain her barriers—but she knew it would be a mistake.
Telling people about her magic was always a mistake.
She couldn’t let herself hope that he’d be different. Except, in so many ways he was. He berated her for using the amulet, then revitalized it. He told her the charm was dangerous, but offered to make her a new one if she could convince him otherwise. He wanted to surround her with protections, yet never trapped her.
But the moment she told him she was a telepath, it would all change. He wouldn’t look at her with desire, but fear. He’d want to protect himself from her, not her from the world.
“Well?” Pippa prompted when laughter was the only response she received.
“He wants me to stop lying to him and takes every opportunity he can to get me alone to argue about it.” Then, to prevent more questions, Sadie went on the offensive. “How did you know anything had happened? I’ve only been back in my room for five minutes at most.”
“Gossip among servants might be even better than gossip at the tavern. You don’t have to wait for everyone to get drunk; they race to share everything they’ve seen and heard. Abigail’s maid came scurrying in because her mistress is in a snit that the baron is paying attention to you instead of her.”
