Lana was coughing, the air knocked from her lungs, but laughter followed shortly after, the sound wistful and teasing.
“This is how you thank me for bringing you breakfast?” Coughing more, Lana grimaced, then rolled onto her stomach and stood.
“This is what you get for throwing me into that creature-infested cave with no magic!” I snarled, the memory of the vorrack making me shudder.
“So what?” Lana’s grin was sharp and wild. “You survived.”
I was in front of her again, another fist flying toward her smug face. Lana’s arm came up to block it, but she missed my other fist as it swung into her ribs. Lana hissed through her teeth as her sharp gaze locked onto mine. She grabbed onto my arm, twisting it down, as her foot crashed into the side of my leg. My teeth clenched, but I managed to stay upright as she pushed away from me, preparing for another strike. I took a step toward her, and I was about to shadow behind her and push her to the floor when a voice sliced through the air, making us both pause.
“Enough.”
Breathing heavily, we both straightened, scowling at one another as we slowly turned toward Morgana, who was now striding lazily into the room.
Her dark hair was braided tightly to her scalp, like Lana’s, and her purple cloak swirled around her as she walked toward us. A black silken dress hugged her petite form underneath, and her yellow eyes narrowed on us with a quiet reprimand.
I bowed my head, Lana doing the same. Although her bow was half-hearted.
My left arm twitched, and an overwhelming sense of sadness pulsed through me. I huffed in irritation—Xavier.He had been feeling that all morning, as well as rage and a cacophony of emotions that irritated me to my very bones—because I, too, now felt those things. On top of my own feelings, and sometimesherfeelings.
I was surprised I hadn’t gone mad…or maybe I had.
“What’s done is done, Zara,” Morgana snapped, irritation lacing her words like a whip. Lana smirked smugly at me, but it quickly fell as Morgana continued. “You should know by now Lana doesn’t think things through. Always in the way, messing things up.” She laughed coldly, her gaze slicing to Lana. “Always such a disappointment.”
Lana stiffened, her hands twitching by her sides as she met her mother’s icy gaze.
“You disappointed me too, Zara,” Morgana hissed, turning her icy gaze back to mine. Pain lanced through me, that thing in my chest coiling. “But, like I said, what’s done is done.”
I held my head high, my expression and gaze unwavering. I wouldn't show weakness or submission, and I wouldn't apologize for something I had no control over.
Morgana smirked, her expression thawing.
It had been three weeks since we took Territan—or rather, since they took it.
We were back in Velra, our home, where this entire plan had been set in motion. The guards who had played their part in our deception were gone, replaced by the usual insufferable ones, and had all been well compensated for their performance.
To pull off the illusion, she had everyone take potions daily to keep their magic suppressed. Spencer, of course, had concocted them, and Morgana had somehow found a way to glamor everyone into looking human. She had cast some sort of spell on the village and the castle. It acted like a ward, surrounding us like a shield, cloaking anyone who entered within its boundary.
And then there was me.
My magic acted unpredictably, which prevented Morgana from controlling me as she'd planned, but in the end, she got the outcome she had wanted.
My mouth turned dry and my shoulders stiffened as Morgana strode forward, her pale face stopping only inches from mine. My skin stung as her icy fingertips made contact with my cheek, her hands cupping my face. I locked my gaze with hers, swallowing the urge to flinch.Never let her see you weak. That lesson had been beaten into me long ago.
“I’m glad to see you up and feeling like yourself,” she murmured, a knowing smirk twisting on her lips. One of her hands left, and I felt the back of her fingers drag down my cheek in mock affection. “Have you fed? You need your strength for what comes next.”
A flash of resentment surged through me, and I forced a tight smile onto my lips. “I could use more blood.”
I didn’t. But I knew that’s what she wanted me to say, and it was better to do it my way than for her to force me.
Morgana studied my face, her eyes flitting between my own, searching. She suddenly released me from her grasp, the sting of the warm air burning my cheeks. With a wave of her hand, she gestured to someone behind me, and I heard the door to the library open.
Two short, mean-looking guards strode in, carrying a woman between them. The woman had matted, long blonde hair. It was stringy, greasy and hung in clumps around her slim face, which was bruised heavily. Yellow and blue stained her pallid skin, and her knees hit the floor with a sharp thud as the guards dropped her onto the cold stone. The woman was shaking, and her hands were clenching and unclenching into fists.Her hazel eyes glared in our direction as tears streaked down her cheeks.
I could tell she wasn't a source. She was a prisoner, an unwilling participant to this feeding. A punishment for something, or maybe nothing.
Morgana took measured slow steps toward the cowering woman, and the woman went still, rigid. She had restrained her somehow; the woman’s eyes flashed with fear.
Morgana knelt before her, and she lowered her head toward her neck, inhaling deeply. The woman trembled, her eyes wide as she watched Morgana savor her fear like it was some sort of fine perfume. “Shhh,” Morgana whispered, pulling back and reaching out to stroke her cheek. She ran her fingers back down her throat and with a swift flick of her nail, she drew a thin line across her frail neck. It was unnecessary, but again, Morgana always did superfluous things. Blood welled and trickled down the woman's neck, her sweet scent filling the air.
