Page 20 of Tales of a Monstrous Heart
I clenched my fists tightly in my lap as magic continued to flush my skin.
‘We’re waiting to hear them,’ was Blackthorn’s dark response from my side, arms folded, forearms testing the limits of the stitching of his coat.
‘I’m certain Miss Woodrow can speak for herself, Lord Blackthorn,’ Master Stone’s nasally voice added with disdain.
‘If you asked her a question worth her time, I’m certain she would.’ Blackthorn’s tone had gone even colder. I noted the slight drop in Master Hale’s shoulders, evidence of his relief at Blackthorn’s defence. I, on the other hand, felt like a rabbit in a snare, my magic moving uncomfortably through my limbs.
‘I thought the charges were clear, considering the injuries to the Ainsworth boy and the state of the ruins,’ Master Grima pressed through his thin lips as they curled to show his yellowed teeth. ‘It clearly lost control of its wild magic, partaking in vengeful dark creature summoning.’
‘She was probably trying to call on the Old Gods while she was at it,’ Madame Bernard added scornfully.
Old Gods. The ancient Verr of the deep. The creators of dark magic, if the myths were to be believed.
‘Miss Woodrow has been extensively tested,’ Master Hale objected sharply.
Brutallywas a better word, trying to see if I was a deadly threat. Fortunately for me, the Council hadn’t realised Kysillian fire couldn’t be enticed from its wielder. No matter the cruelty of their examinations.
‘I’d also remind theCouncilthat dark magic is no friend of the fey,’ Master Hale finished, breath rattling in his throat as he contained another coughing fit.
‘Itwas in the restricted section, which as you know, Hale, is strictly forbidden,’ Ainsworth huffed out with an unamused sour laugh. ‘Have you abandoned all sense of reason along with your responsibilities to this council?’
‘The Ainsworth compendium was left—’ I began, knowing I needed to say something.
‘A book that hasn’t been seen in two centuries,’ Master Grima interrupted me, a viciousness to his tone.
‘Finneaus opened it,’ I challenged, confused as to why I needed to state such a fact. Surely the Wardens had found it?
‘Be careful, Miss Woodrow, or we may be forced to summon the Truth Seeker,’ Ainsworth threatened coldly.
The Truth Seeker, a being who devoted themselves to their saints’ cause, mutilating their bodies with the words of ancient spells in order to be able to pull truth from your very soul.
‘Perhaps you should,’ I countered, some dark hateful part of me wishing they would. No matter how horrid someone rummaging through my soul would be.
‘Insolent—’ Madame Bernard began to crow from her perch, but my anger didn’t give her a chance to finish as I took hold of the armrest, needing something to anchor myself.
‘Finneaus released a demonic entity into the lower chambers from that compendium.’ Silence struck like a lightning bolt. A blood seal was dark magic made to keep all, apart from the direct bloodline, from opening it. ‘A blood-sealed compendium that I can’t touch.’
I turned my hands over for them to see. No red welts or burns from the forsaken iron that coated the text.
Dark, silent fury crept over Master Ainsworth’s pale face. Blood-sealed texts were outlawed for their lethal unpredictability, and it was a crime to own one, yet this one had sat in the Council’s very own library for years, and he knew that. Knew because it belonged to him.
‘The book was—’ I tried to continue.
‘No such book was discovered, youviciousthing. If anything could be found in the destruction to those sacred ruins at all,’ Madame Bernard half wailed, as if she’d ever given asecond thought to the dusty chambers beneath her feet until I’d stepped foot in them.
‘Your charge won’t stand, Master Ainsworth. Under clause five, blood-sealed texts aren’t included,’ Emrys pointed out with bored observation, ignoring every word they’d said as his hands slipped easily into his pockets.
‘Have you not been listening?’ Ainsworth spat.
There was no anger, no harsh words or sneers in response from Blackthorn at the vulgarity in Ainsworth’s tone. Instead, a slow, almost cruel smile came to his lips.
Then I felt it, a strange tension rolling through the room like the beginning of a storm – cold, lethal magic. The morning sun dimmed as if great storm clouds passed overhead.
Clearly oblivious to Blackthorn’s mood, Ainsworth unwisely continued his tirade. ‘If you wish to believe it’s—’
Out of thin air, the small, mangled cage I’d made to hold the gobrite in question crashed down onto Master Ainsworth’s desk, sending papers skyward. Chairs scraped against the wooden floor as the Master Mages jumped to their feet, stumbling backwards with cries of alarm.
My own hands gripped the arms of the chair in disbelief, my magic hot in my veins at the resurgence of a familiar foe. The cage rattled as the creature turned its head to me, hissing and thrashing. Clearly in an unforgiving mood.
