Page 41 of MidKnight
Blue puffed up in pride. I pulled the bird close to me and said, “Now, you’re only supposed to do that to Quinn.”
Did you say my name, Dove?
Nope.
Liar.
Just be safe and get home. And tell Ryan to do the same.
He’s already flying back.
Blue settled in on my shoulder and the bunny hopped over to snuggle into my skirts where they pooled on the floor. He scratched at the silk until he’d piled it to his liking and settled in.
I sighed. Dammit. Pretty soon I’d be naming him, too. I didn’t even love animals. I’d always liked the gargoyles more. The fact that these were spelled people cuddling up to me just made me twice as uncomfortable. Cerena needed an assistant to help her break this spell. Yesterday.
My eyes followed my mage as Connor led her over to the midwife. “Mrs. Borroughs, can you please repeat what you just said?”
Connor came and stood next to me while the midwife told Cerena about the day my sister was born. I leaned toward my knight and whispered, “Why did you get Cerena?”
Connor leaned closer. And Declan bent near so he could hear. “When she spoke, her emotions went blank. It was odd. She was excited about the baby and then just blank.”
I stared at Cerena as she asked the older woman another question.
“Blank, how?” Declan asked.
“Blank, like she was spelled,” Connor’s lips thinned. “I’ve seen it once or twice before. People’s minds have been modified by a spell.”
Cerena’s eyes met mine. She nodded grimly.
Shite. Connor was right.
Cerena pulled a bottle of salt out of her pocket. “Excuse me, ma’am. But we’re about to …” Cerena looked to Connor.
“Promote you, Mrs. Burroughs,” Connor supplied. “You’ve served us so well. But we need a … confidentiality spell performed.”
The old woman gave a toothy grin and settled back into her chair, letting Cerena do as she wished.
My mage sprinkled the salt in a circle around the servant. She grabbed a candle from off a nearby table and asked the woman to hold it. And then Cerena took out a knife. She sliced her own palm, letting the blood drip onto the salt. She grabbed the old woman’s hand and raised it, placing her own bloody palm against the servant’s. She took a vial out of another pocket and said, “I’d like you to drink this. It’s called Revelation. And then I’d like you to think about the day Princess Avia was born again.”
Cerena recited a spell that made the hair on my neck rise and Blue bury his face in the high collar of my dress. A blue glow filled the room. Silver sparkles rose from the midwife’s head and morphed into outlines. Then the outlines filled in, as if a painting were being created midair. A moving painting. My mother’s chamber appeared. Three of my fathers spoke in hushed tones. And I realized we couldn’t just see, we could hear.
The view turned from the men to a fireplace with a crackling fire inside and a hand stoked the flames. We were watching things from Mrs. Borroughs’ perspective. The servant’s memories were on display. When the view turned back toward the room, a silver blur passed over everyone.
Cerena muttered to us, “That’s the spell. We’ll see if we can peer around it.” She cut her other hand and added more blood.
Though the images remained mottled, as if we were watching them through a rain-splattered window, I could see a short man pull open the door and enter the room. He had wild brown hair and a pair of goggles sat on his head. Wyle set up candles near my mother and said, “Nearly time.”
The window to the room flew open and the curtains rustled in the breeze. I watched as my father Gorg, our former spy master, landed on the windowsill and climbed into the room. He had a heavy cloak on, one that whipped in the wind as he shut the window.
“I came as quickly as I could,” he said.
My other fathers left my mother in bed and went toward Gorg.
“Well?” Lewart, my biological father, asked.
Gorg nodded and pulled off his cloak. “We did it.”
Strapped to his chest was a thick bundle of cloth. He unwound the sling from his shoulders and held out a crying baby bundled in blankets.
