Chapter 40

Cosmina kneels on her pinkish bare knees, her neck tilted towards the sky, her dark hair cascading over her shoulders like a subterranean waterfall. Blue veins vine around her neck like vicious necklaces, and her breath turns labored and shallow. A twig snaps from somewhere in the forest around her, and she jerks her attention towards the sound just as a large, black mist appears within the trees. Her eyes go wide, but her knees remain planted in the mossy ground. She bares her teeth in a threatening snarl. As if it were sentient, the mist rears up in response and rushes towards her like a storm about to swallow her whole.

I fly upright, ripping the sweat-drenched blankets off my body.

Cosmina.

She wasn't there.

After the battle, the blood magic left me in a drunken high, crazed and… and distracted. My cheeks warm with the memory of last night's events—or early this morning's, I suppose—realizing I have no idea how long I've been asleep. But the high seems to have faded with sleep and an unknown number of hours, and I am thinking clearly now.

She was supposed to be there.

That was our plan, our arrangement. We would overwhelm Legion, free Cosmina, and my sister and I would be allowed to leave Scarwood unscathed.

Legion was massacred. Blood magic had been coursing through me, sent me flying into a frenzied version of myself that was consumed with… him. Sin overwhelmed my senses—his smell, his appearance, his… the way he looked at me. When he drained the magic from my veins to protect us both, he panicked trying to get me to respond, to make sure I was okay. In the heat of battle, he didn't need a spell to keep me near him. His concern for my wellbeing was enough to bind my will to his.

The Black Art watched as I slaughtered his enemies without remorse and licked their blood from my lips. He wasn't frightened of me, disgusted by me, or thought any less of me.

He wanted me.

It all comes back to me with clarity now. I remember his face—the bearded man that nearly delivered a fatal blow to the back of Ileana's skull. She was outnumbered, too gone with rage to pace herself, and she wouldn't have survived the night.

I killed him.

And I controlled her.

But the rush of power that followed silenced all thoughts of Cosmina—drowned out anything that wasn't blood or war or him. Sin was high too. I kissed him while the city was being shredded around us, teased him in the courtyard celebration, baited him to his study. I pursued him.

Does he regret what we did?The Black Art sleeping with a bloodwitch violates more laws than I care to consider, but he knew what he was doing. His actions may have been influenced by his own caster's high, but he chose to kiss me back, and he certainly acted on his own free will in the study. And as much as I may hate to admit it, I'd do it all over again.

What we did this morning felt right.

Hefelt right.

I hurry to the bathhouse and scrub all remnants of yesterday from my skin—the faded red stains on my hands and face, the dirt in my nails, the scent of cedar and peppercorn still lingering on my skin. My lungs inhale deeply, swelling with freedom and opportunity. And for once, my gut doesn't clench with the weight of Sin's binding spell. No black heart marks my hip.

I am no longer tethered to the Black Art.

If I leave Scarwood now, he'd have no magical rope to track me down with. But I'm not going anywhere without my sister. Sin and I made a deal, and I intend on making sure he upholds his end of the agreement.

River is waiting in my room when I return; no doubt Sin asked her to keep an eye on me to make sure I'm now acting with some inkling of sanity. She informs me Sin has been occupied in the Great Hall for much of the afternoon, meeting with lords and shopkeepers of Blackreach to discuss plans for the city's reconstruction.

I put on a knee length black dress with a fitted waist and slight flare to the skirts, and braid my hair down my back. Fumbling through the tiny tins and pots of cosmetics River left, I dab some powder to my cheeks and eyelids, and when I'm thoroughly convinced no amount of powder can cover up the anxiety on my face, I give up the cause and leave my room.

The doors to the Great Hall span the length of the wall from the stone floor to the arched ceilings with large golden handles. The guard posted outside opens one of the doors for me, and I step inside. The room is large but predominantly empty aside from the rows of wooden desks and chairs seated in the center—likely seating for the council—and the oversized throne occupying the dais along the far wall. And seated in the towering gold throne with crimson velvet cushions, dressed in the black leather surcoat he wore the night I met him, is Aegidale's Black Art.

His eyes are on me the moment I enter the room, as if he'd been waiting for me, knowing I'd come find him here. An older man dressed in a dark tailcoat—a lord—stands at the foot of the dais. I curtsy out of respect for them both and quickly divert my eyes to the other end of the Hall where Sterling stands with a man I don't recognize. The head Langston waves me over to them, and I hurry to his side, grateful for the excuse to be out of Sin's direct line of sight.

I curtsy again before Sterling and the tall man dressed in a dark blue coat with silver threading at his side. Another Langston then, judging by his attire. "Son, this is Wren—an old friend of His Grace. She fought in the city with them yesterday, and Singard tells me she was an excellent asset. Wren, this is my eldest son, Cornelius."

As soon as he drops the name, the resemblance hits me with such obviousness, I'm not sure how I missed it. Cornelius is taller than his brother was, and Bennett's chilling blue eyes are replaced with warm honey ones, but he has the same thick, wavy brown hair, angled jaw, and thin, wide lips as his late sibling.

"Pleasure to make your acquaintance, my Lord," I say.

"Pleasure is mine, my Lady." He smiles, revealing a set of remarkably straight white teeth. Dusaro and Bennett had both mentioned the eldest Langston son planned to return, but his brother also hinted that his family held strong reservations towards him. I wonder what prompted him to leave Blackreach, and why he has chosen to return now.

"My condolences for your brother," I say with forced apology in my tone. I don't mean it, but it may appear strange if I don't offer them.

"Thank you. While it won't bring my brother back, I am glad justice was served, nonetheless. I appreciate your part in helping to avenge him and the countless others lost to Legion's fruitless cause."

"We wish it was under better circumstances, but Lady Langston and I are most pleased Cornelius has returned to us," Sterling says, sizing up his son with pride, and not the distaste Bennett suggested was the norm.

"It was time to take my place in the family business—didn't want to let this one screw it up too badly," he jests, elbowing his father in the ribs.

I dare a glance over my shoulder to see if Sin is still occupied with the visitor and find him still engaged in conversation, but the tapping of his nails on the throne arm and the slight bounce of his leg suggests he is readying to send the man away.

Sterling follows my gaze. "Stellar idea of him to host the ball."

"Ball?" I ask, turning my attention back to the Langstons.

"A token of appreciation for the city's residents being so flexible… a celebratory ball you could say. Invites will be going out tomorrow to all of Blackreach as most families will be able to return to their homes given most of the fighting stayed away from the residential areas."

"Stellar idea indeed, my Lord. Quite generous of His Grace to offer a distraction while the city's center is rebuilt."

Cornelius clasps his hands together in front of himself. "Miss Wren, I hope it is not too forward of me to ask, but would you accompany me to this ball? I'm afraid I've been away from home for quite some time and haven't had the opportunity to rekindle old acquaintances just yet."

"Me?" I blurt out, tucking away a loose strand of hair behind my ear.

"I'll admit I'm not much of a dancer," he says, putting his hands up in mock defense, "but I've been told I'm quite the mediocre conversationalist."

The last time I danced with a Langston, it didn't end well for either of us. I steal a glance over my shoulder again, noting the conversation behind me is coming to a close. Perhaps attending the dance with Cornelius will send a message to Sin—one that clearly states I don't expect our relationship to change as a result of what transpired between us. Surely the Black Art will want our… indiscretion… to remain between us. He needn't worry I have any intention to illuminate the pleasures we shared in the shadows. Plus, if Cornelius turns out to be anything like his late brother, I'm happy to reunite them.

"I would be delighted, Mr. Langston," I say, fanning out my dress and dipping my knees.

"Cornelius," he corrects. "Excellent. It seems my return to Blackreach won't be so miserable after all, even if I have to deal with this old man," he chastises his father with a half-hearted grin and a bump of his elbow.

Behind us, the visitor bids his farewell, and a servant escorts him out, the heavy door of the Hall groaning shut behind them.

"I look forward to your company, Cornelius. Now if you two will excuse me, I must see if I can steal a moment of His Grace's time."

Hoping my throat doesn't bob as I gulp down my anxiety, I turn and walk to the foot of the dais, feeling Sin's eyes glued to me with every step. He sits far back in the cushioned throne with his legs spread wide and his hands clasped together at the fingertips in his lap, the embodiment of casual, but his expression is anything but relaxed.

I slip into a deep curtsy. "Your Grace. I know you are quite busy with arrangements, but I request a moment of your time. In private."

He straightens in his seat and rests his elbows on the arms of his throne. "Gentlemen," Sin calls to the Langstons who still linger in earshot. "Leave us for a moment."

They each bow and make a swift exit without a word, and the few servants lining the walls follow after them without being asked. When the room is vacant aside from us, he turns his attention back to me, his eyes now back to their usual shade of green and smoldering with curiosity. He's sitting taller now, but his legs are still splayed apart in front of him. A facetious smirk blooms across his face as if he knows it's taking all I have to not drop my eyes and drink in the sight of him.

I resist the urge to scowl and instead straighten my spine and look him dead in the eye. "I am elated for the kingdom's victory, but also disheartened events did not go as we predicted and planned for. I saw no sign of my sister yesterday, and now with Legion's devastation, I am very worried what is to become of her."

Lines split his forehead, and he rubs a hand across the bottom of his jaw. "Do you have any leads on where she may be?" he asks carefully.

"I'm certain they have her. I don't know what long game they're playing, but if someone is masking her location, that can only mean they don't want me finding her before they're ready. There must be more of them still, there has to be."

Because if there isn't… I'm not willing to acknowledge the possibility Legion disposed of my sister somewhere, her body spelled with magic to never be found.

"I want to see Cathal. He must know where she is, and if he won't talk to you, let me speak with him. I have learned how to control abilities I think might be most… persuasive." Like shoving my dagger into his chest and slurping the blood from his thumping heart.

"I can assure you I have a surplus of tricks up my sleeve too. But with Legion gone, I have no use wasting resources to keep him alive anymore. Other than for my own personal gratification in watching him suffer," he adds darkly.

"No! Please… no. Not as long as Cosmina is missing. We need to find her first, then I don't care what you do with him. But he may be the only person alive that knows where she is."

He exhales sharply and idly scratches the underside of his chin. "Wren…"

"I pledged to fight alongside you, and I upheld that promise. And now I'm asking you to help me find her. As soon as I do, we'll leave, and you can be rid of me for good."

His lips turn down at that comment, but he doesn't respond.

"Please, Singard. Don't make me beg."

"As much as I'd like to see you kneeling before me again, love, I wouldn't want you to mess up that pretty little dress. Give me a few days. I leave for the city in the morning to oversee preparations, but I'll be back at the end of the week to host a celebratory ball here. We will convene then."

"I worry we don't have that kind of time," I press.

"The end of the week," he repeats, sharper now.

"Fine. End of the bloody week."

"You're welcome to attend the ball, of course. I promise I won't force you to dance with anyone this time, except maybe me. That is, if you're feeling up to walking by then." He raises an eyebrow at me, accentuating that lazy, feral grin he's perfected, and I hate the burn it instills low in my stomach. My body betraying me.

"I'll see if Cornelius is willing to let go of me long enough to spare you a dance," I say in a tone as bitter as it is sweet.

The smirk vanishes from his mouth, and I can't help my cheeks from swelling with amusement as the muscles along his jawline feather slightly.

And as quickly as it appeared, I wipe the smug smile from my face. "I look forward to our continued arrangement, Your Grace. But if you cannot offer me an agreeable plan by the end of the week, then I'm afraid I'll have to take my leave. Though, I do think it is in your best interest to keep the kingdom in my good graces."

He chuckles with dark amusement. "Tell me, little witch, do you intend on killing all your enemies now, or just the ones I ask you to?"

I lick my lips. "Only the ones I take to bed, Your Grace."

I turn and head for the doors, but not before I glimpse the ravenous look on Sin's face, like my comment incited some kind of hunger as wild and raw as his heart. A heart I will eagerly rip from his chest and devour if he doesn't make good on his word.