Page 90 of Magic of the Damned

“This doesn’t need to be an issue, Father. Have I ever failed?”

The lord just offered a cocked brow in response. There was something hidden behind it.

“Don’t create a fight when one isn’t warranted,” Dominic said.

A half smile curled the corners of the lord’s lip. “Is it truly a fight if one is outmatched with no chance of winning?”

“Perhaps, but that’s not the case with us, is it?” Dominic said.

I wasn’t witnessing a dispute between a father and son, but a tumultuous relationship between a ruler and his successor. My attention bounced between the two, trying to determine how one ascended to their position. Does the lord retire or is he dethroned? I abandoned my thoughts to focus on the delighted smile on Helena’s face. Violence, chaos, and strife was thick in the air, and it appealed to her no matter the source.

“I’m sure we can figure out a way to break the curse and let me live,” I offered in a low, neutral voice, feeling like the slightest misstep would only add fodder to the volatile situation. My diplomacy induced an eyeroll from Helena.

Canting his head, the lord’s brows arched but the ominous air remained. Dark amusement washed over his face, revealing a small smile as ominous as his presence. “What gives you such confidence, Luna?”

“Because we found a solution before when the prisoners were released. I’m confident it can be done again. No one will have to die.” With a confidence level that was well under fifty percent, I gave him all the bravado and assurance of a person fighting for her life because, essentially, I was.

“I assure you, someone will die for this. Perhaps it won’t be you. But someone will pay.” He turned and headed toward the door, offering a temporary stay of execution. Helena’s thrilled expression suggested that it wouldn’t be for long.

Dominic kept a razor focus on his father’s back and didn’t appear surprised when his father stopped with his hand on the door.

“Remove Helena’s restrictions,” he demanded.

“Why don’t you do it, Father? After all, your magic outmatches mine—or so you believe.”

The lord looked over his shoulder, putting Dominic in his assassin’s scope, but Dominic’s comment had bothered him. It was obvious that he couldn’t do it. A man who possessed limitless power wasn’t used to being limited by magic or the threat of violence to get what he wanted.

“Because you restricted her magic, you need to be the one who makes her whole again.” As he opened the door before closing it behind him, he tacked on, “It wasn’t a request, it was an order.”

Once Areleus was gone, Helena, beaming, presented her arms to Dominic.

He approached her, resolution in his expression. Her chin tilted in defiance as he took in her marks before returning his attention to her face.

“I’m not removing your restrictions,” Dominic told her.

Helena’s expression switched to fury. A wintry scowl skewed her features. She tensed, looking as if she was going to crumble under the self-imposed restraint. “It was an order,” she hissed.

“You’re no stranger to disobeying orders. What makes you think that I can’t follow suit?”

She inched closer to him. “This has nothing to do with principle and everything to do with your pride. I refused to be controlled by you and your wounded ego.”

Her selective memory was astonishing. His request for her not to kill me had led to her clawing his face and later putting a jagged wine glass to his throat. If that’s her being controlled, what was she like unfettered?

“I’ve done worse.”

What kind of defense was that? The ‘I’m always terrible, why try to rein it in now?’ strategy.

Despite my best effort, slight admiration seeped through my disdain. This woman had audacity to spare, and I was morbidly fascinated by it.

“You have. Far too many times. I have reached my limits with you.” He’d taken her aggressive response well. Better than anyone else had, and I wasn’t convinced he would have retaliated if she wasn’t so dogmatic about going against his wishes and killing me.

Her docile look of regret and innocence was hard earned. I could see the effort she’d put into it. She thought her magic restriction was because she’d clawed him. “Granted, I have been…shall we say, a little overenthusiastic with my response to you chastising me. It was a regrettable act.”

Great non-apology. And when has clawing a person’s face been considered overenthusiastic? How would she describe murder? A guided escort to the afterlife?

Dominic’s low chuckle held no humor. “I no longer have the patience or the forced diplomacy to make amends and excuses for your behavior. Nor do I wish to continue to clean up your messes. We have been placed at a disadvantage far too often because of it. When your magic is returned, you would have earned the privilege by your deeds. When you are no longer an anchor, your magic will be returned.”

Her winged cheeks flushed, the coloring inching over the bridge of her nose as she took short, sharp inhales through her nose. She sounded like a bull readying to charge. She turned in a huff, her eyes raging with promised retaliation. “You’ve never had me as an enemy, brother. It is not something you want,” she grounded out through clenched teeth.

---