Page 49

With resolve coursing through me, I sifted through the drawers of the armoire and the vanity until I found some candlesticks. I used the lantern to light each wick, then placed the candles around the perimeter of the room. Already, the smell of smoke and flame washed over me, reminding me of home and spells.

A mixture of longing and nostalgia swelled within me, mingling with despair, but I pushed the feelings aside and tried to focus on the task at hand.

When the candles were distributed evenly around the room, I stood in the center, my feet planted on the plush umber rug. With my arms outstretched on either side of me, I conjured the magic within me.

It was slow at first; the icy magic of those shadow cuffs had weakened my powers. I needed time and rest to replenish my stores, but the magic was still there. I tugged on it, gently at first, and then more forcefully.

Eventually, it sputtered to life in my chest, and I breathed a sigh of relief. Hello, old friend. Warm waves of power swept over me, tingling from head to toe.

I weaved my hands through the air, sweeping them back and forth like I was tracing the rolling waves of the ocean. With each stroke, power surged in the room, rippling from wall to wall. The fire from the candles blazed hotter, flames climbing higher and higher until the space was almost as brilliant as midday.

The movements of my hands quickened, my arms twisting and twirling. Heat roared within me as my magic climbed higher and higher. I could feel it creeping up the walls, trickling into the floor and ceiling. It was all around me, pressing in on me like a soothing blanket, a caress.

It was my protector. And it was all I had left.

When I finished the spell, the cloud of warmth still surrounded me. My hands lowered, and sweat trickled down my temple and jaw. I was panting, but a grin spread across my face.

The room was warded now. If a Mage burst in, they wouldn’t be able to cross the threshold unless I released the spell.

Even Alaric wouldn’t be allowed inside.

The knots in my stomach loosened, and my chest expanded ever so slightly. The grief was still there, a festering, gaping wound that might never heal. But for the first time since I’d come to the Isle, I felt safe.

And that feeling of security was monumental. I needed every bit of positivity I could get my hands on right now.

I pulled open the armoire to scrutinize my clothing options. My brows creased as I took in the thin, short gowns and chemises. Storms, these were designed for the smallest of women. Just the thought of trying to tug them over my large chest made me want to cry.

At last, I found a large undershirt and trousers that must have belonged to a male. They would be rather large on me, but it was better than staying in the filthy clothes I was wearing.

As I undressed, I had to remove the vial of potion still wedged between my breasts. My gaze roved over the room as I chewed on my lower lip.

Gran used to stack my vials on the windowsill right by my bed so it would be the first thing I saw when I woke up. But the windows in this room had no sills, and they weren’t anywhere near the bed.

My heart twisted with longing. Gran, I wish you were here. I didn’t care what that Oracle said. Gran could not have possibly killed the Mage King.

She would know what to do. She always did. I’ll remind you to take your tonic in the morning, Cece, she would say.

Emotion welled in my throat, and I sniffled as moisture stung my eyes. Gods, I was so sick of crying.

Clearing my throat, I crossed the room to the bed and placed the vial neatly on the small stand by the headboard. Hopefully, that would be enough to remind me when I awoke.

Once it was gone, I would have to find a way to make more. If I couldn’t find the ingredients here, I knew I could in the fae lands. Gran had shown me all the best places to find the herbs.

I eased into the bathtub and took my time scrubbing the dirt and grime from my body. After putting on the clothing that was far too big for me, I gathered my damp hair together and braided it down my back. One by one, I blew out the candles around the room, knowing that if I didn’t, I would likely set the whole place on fire.

I crawled into the enormous bed and pulled the covers over my body, feeling a sense of peace for the first time in days. The room was secure. I was clean, fed, and dressed. I was safe, for the time being.

But as I lay there in the unfamiliar bed, surrounded by foreign sights and smells, a heavy lump formed in my throat. It felt wrong to be content right now. To feel any kind of peace or happiness.

This was not my home. I wasn’t even sure if I had a home anymore.

Not without Gran.

I turned my head into my pillow as tears welled in my eyes. And once I started, I couldn’t stop. I sobbed into my pillow, my shoulders shaking. My tears wouldn’t stop flowing, and I let them, knowing this might be the only time I could weep freely.

Eventually, I fell asleep, but it wasn’t long before the loud rattling of metal jolted me awake. The room was still cloaked in darkness, and my face was sticky with tears.

Something heavy slammed against the door, and I cried out, sitting bolt upright in the bed. My blood turned to ice in my veins.