Page 25 of Wolf's Keep

The man could command armies with that voice. Did command an army, Lothair’s army. Unease fluttered in her stomach. She cradled her goblet as though it contained liquid courage, each sip making her bolder.

“No.”

His eyebrows rose, his lips twitched. “No?”

She took another gulp of wine. “Tell me about the amulet. What it is. How it works.”

Silence stretched between them. Her foot bounced under the table, her pulse pounding loud in her ears. He cocked his head to the side, regarding her like a curious keepsake whose origins were an intriguing mystery to him.

“Very well,” he said, and the tension in her shoulders eased a little. “It belongs to my family. A family crest, if you will. We are given one as we come of age. When we die, they are returned to the family and then passed on, in time, to another.”

She waited for him to elaborate further, but he didn’t.

“What about the inscription? How could it bring me through time? Why did it bring me to you?” What of the bloodstone and the secret it mentioned? And how did she use it to get home?

He took a deep breath. She may have won a minor victory, but the battle of wits was far from over. She’d no doubt, for every piece of information he gave, he would expect payment in kind.

“The amulets are precious to my family. They have a lot of sentimental and monetary value. More often than not, the men in my family die on the battlefield or in some skirmish. It would be very easy for them to be lost or stolen. Somewhere in the past, a member of my family has invoked a power into them. So, when the wearer recites the inscription, it returns them to the head of the family, bringing them home.”

“Uh-huh.”

“You read the inscription. I am the head of my family. Here you are.”

“Is it a Druidic piece? Something from the old religion? A witch’s spell?”

He shook his head. “I have no knowledge of how it came to be imbued with such power, nor the origins of the script. I only know that it works. As do you now. Are you going to answer my question?”

Did he think she was born yesterday? “How could you have something so precious to your family and yet not know anything about it? Where the language comes from, who imbued it with such power and how this power works?”

“Do you know who invented your time piece? How they created it, how it knows to move the pointers at exactly the right moment to mark the passing of time?”

“Well, not exactly no, but—”

“It is the same. I grew up with these in my family. I have had no need to question the whys and wherefores any more than you have with your timepiece.”

She didn’t buy it. “It seems rather excessive to risk using a runic-style alphabet, potentially putting your whole family at odds with the church, all because of the sentimentality of a few pieces of jewelry.”

“They are gold. And very valuable.”

His flat tone suggested he would say no more. The man’s mind was a steel vault, the information she needed sealed within, and she’d yet to find the entire combination to fully prize open the damn door.

“But anyone with a knowledge of this script, finding an amulet, could read the inscription. You could have all manner of people randomly turning up at your keep.” She pointed to her chest. “I did.”

His brow furrowed, whether at her persistence here and now, or because she had turned up at his keep unannounced with an amulet in her hand, she couldn’t be sure.

“This has never happened before. The script is not in common usage, and the words alone are not enough to make it work.”

“But I read it and…”

Wait a minute. Did he just let something slip? Yes, he did.

The script alone didn’t make the spell work. So what did? She glanced down at her fingers. She’d cut herself on it. Erin grinned, triumphant.

“It needs blood to work. Blood magic.” A single drop of blood, smeared into the inscription, had activated the spell. What were the chances?

His lips tightened into a thin line. “Yes, blood makes it work. Now, tell me, what were you hoping to find at Langeais Keep?”

His tone brooked no more questions. Time to pay up. Time to lay another of her cards on the table.

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