Page 5 of The Sorcerer of Shadowholde

“I am so sorry. The normal vendor was out, so I had to locate another.”

The lie slipped easily from her lips as she handed the eggs to the cook, a small girl named Rhea who squeaked an assent and hurried back to the dough she had been kneading a moment ago.

Domina Amulius scoffed, eyes narrowed with suspicion.

“You’re dismissed for the evening,” she said with a hiss, already focused back on Rhea.

Vita bowed, then made her way to her room, hoping to avoid a certain someone.

Luck was not on her side today.

As she walked down the hallway, Praetor Amulius stepped around the corner as if he had been lying in wait, like a dog hunting a rabbit. She gave him a deep curtsy, every muscle clenched with panic.

“Lovely Vita,” he whispered with a sneer.

Clearly, he didn’t want his wife to hear what he had to say. She took a cautious step forward, having no other options with him blocking her door.

“Hello Praetor Amulius,” she said politely, her voice cracking.

She plodded towards him, holding her arms at her sides and wishing she were anywhere but here.

Dark eyes glared at her with the same hunger she had seen earlier today. “I’m sure you have heard about the Aonalia Feast.”

“Yes, sir.” She nodded, keeping her eyes on the ground. “I’ve helped Domina Amulius with her dress fittings.”

Vita held her breath and reached for the knob of her door, hoping he would let her go. Her employer’s hand shot out, roughly taking hers and pulling her back to him.

“I’m not done with you, girl,” he hissed, drawing her close.

She wanted to scream, but knew it would do little good. The power was welling in her once more, and she only hoped whatever happened would be over quickly.

“You will accompany us to the palace for Aonalia.”

It wasn’t a question, but an order. He reached out a hand, brushing a stray lock out of Vita’s eyes. Her heart raced as he cupped her cheek, his thumb running along the scar he had inflicted upon her.

“You’ll look even more lovely in one of my wife’s old dresses.”

Amulius closed in suddenly, and she thought he was going to kiss her. She slammed her eyes shut, the flame of power threatening to envelop her body, when she heard a shout from the kitchen.

“Marcus!”

Thank the Gods.

Vita opened her eyes, her employer’s face mere inches from hers. He grumbled under his breath before releasing her from his grasp, trudging towards his wife’s voice as she scrambled to open her door. The temptation to slam it shut was strong, but she settled on clicking the latch into place.

Power coursed through her veins as she wrapped her arms around herself, swaying back and forth and trying to ignore the pain of the surge. Each time was different, and this one was agonizing as her hands grew warm, then hot, then scalding. She stifled her cries, desperate not to draw the attention of the entire household.

When she couldn’t bear it any longer, Vita grabbed a book from her desk, urged on by the throb in her hands. The book immediately burst into flames and she let out a small scream before dropping it on the floor and stomping it out with her sandal. A blissful chill returned to her hands as she opened her window to let the smoke dissipate.

Flaming hands. That was a new one.

Vita picked up the book, ruined by the blaze she had created. The surges were coming more often now, and they were difficult to control when her emotions were high. The escalation of her employer’s advances didn’t help the matter… if she unleashed an outpouring of magic on him, he’d send her straight to the city jail. That is, if she didn’t mortally wound him first.

She rifled through the wooden trunk at the end of her bed, finding the correct journal. With a feather quill, she wrote the date and a description of the surge that had just happened, then took out a different book and read through the last scene she had written.

Another one of her fairy stories. Something to calm her mind.

Vita tried to focus on writing the next scene, though her thoughts kept turning to Amulius and the fact that she would be going to the Aonalia Feast. This was what she had wished for, to attend the solstice celebration, though she’d assumed it would be the Domina asking her along, and not her vile husband.

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