The warlock didn’t look phased by my use of magic. Instead, he continued to step toward us and spoke to the beast. “That’s enough—come.” He tapped his arm, and there was a sudden gust of wind and dust. The beast had vanished.
“Don’t come any closer,” I warned.
The warlock eyed the burst of light in my hands, and the pompous smirk remained.
“You’re a unique one,” he mused. “How are those old crones in the towers doing? Do they miss me?” His tone was playful—a predator playing with his prey. He continued to approach, and we continued to silently retreat.
Only Emmerick’s sword and my lit palms stood between us and the still-approaching warlock.
“Listen, we can play this little game all night. But something tells me that if you and I went at it”—he motioned between himself and me with a hint of flirtatious insinuation—“neither of us would walk away alive. I’ve got my weapons put away—nowextinguishyours.”
The warlock’s palms rose in mock surrender. The beast was nowhere to be seen, but I was still hesitant.Weapons.Plural. He could still have something up his sleeve. As we continued to step back, the warlock stepped right over my sword as though it was no use to him.
“I take it the two horses I found were yours? They’re safe at my cabin.” The warlock pressed on. “So, why don’t you share what you need from me?”
Eyeing him wearily, I stopped stepping backward. Undoubtedly, he could have allowed thatthingto kill us if he’d wanted to. He still could.
“Emmerick, lower your sword.”
I could feel him tense beside me. “Are you serious?”
Closing my fists, I snuffed out the blue flames in my palms. I heard Emmerick sheath his blade with a slew of profanities under his breath, but my eyes never left the warlock.
The warlock lowered his hands to his sides. “Oh, I do love a woman in charge. So itisyou who leads this little expedition? You were shaking in your boots so violently that I thought maybe it was the boy.”
“Neither of us leads the other.” My voice was measured. “We will share why we have come—but first, swear in blood that if you refuse to help us, then we walk away from these woods unharmed.”
His smile waned. He seemed to lose interest in toying with us. The warlock reached into his robes, and withdrew a small hunting knife, and nicked the inside of his palm. Blood dripped down his hand and hit the forest floor.
Firose had once told me—“Blood oaths are flimsy magic—binding, and unbreakable, yet how they are worded matters greatly.”
I awaited the warlock’s words, ready to listen carefully to their meaning.
“I swear, in blood, that I—we—will allow you both to walk away from these woods unharmed—whether I choose to help you or not.”
My shoulders relaxed slightly. I could find no hole in his oath.
The warlock had drawn close enough for me to see his features better in the moonlight. He was less than an arm’s length away now.
He had unkempt facial hair and a head of tousled dark auburn waves that were just as disorderly. A scar ran from the warlock’s left cheekbone down his neck, creating a gray streak in his otherwise copper-threaded beard before disappearing under his shirt collar. He had an athletic build yet he was not imposing. My eyes roved down him before I caught myself and forced myself to meet his gaze.
I could see a thread of gold in his eyes. Despite wanting to look away, something compelled me not to.
“Plus, I would never harm a face like this.” He tilted my chin up with his bleeding hand. It was as though he was purposely marking me. Emmerick stiffened beside me.
The warlock stepped closer. He smelled of leather, cedar and smoke. Surprisingly pleasant.
“No, a face like this”—he released my chin, looking down at me with an infuriatingly confident smirk—“should beworshiped. So now, what is it you two seek from me?”
Ignoring every impulse to launch a venomous response, I turned to Emmerick, nodding to prompt him to speak for the Queen’s Court.
“We come to ask for your aid in a war to come. Should you accept, you will be escorted to Luz as Queen Wymark’s guest. We offer your freedom from these woods and refuge in the Central Corridor.”
The warlock’s flippant demeanor hardened. I swallowed hard. Seeing the lines of his face grow harsh, I retracted any thought of him not being imposing.
“I will not fight in any war. We will not be used on any battlefield. You’ve wasted your time.”
Great.A pacifist with a bloodthirsty pet.I noted to myself that he saidgifts, plural, again. I wondered what Source magic he possessed.
