Page 78 of A City of Emeralds and Envy
The longer he speaks, the more frantically my heart beats.
He marked me. I marked him. And I spoke those words in my head—words of passion and longing.
We could do this forever, the two of us—we’d never have to fear being alone again. We’d be so wicked and wild—we could do anything we pleased, and no one could tell us not to. I wish I could love you until I die. I want you to be mine.
“And you two—performed this rite?” Riordan says stiffly.
“The marking was impulsive on my part,” West admits. “I didn’t explain the significance, because I never expected her to reciprocate what I was thinking and feeling.”
“Who says I do?” I snap.
“The proof of the bond occurred immediately afterward.” West gives me a significant look, and I remember the three dazzling orgasms we experienced in unison.
My cheeks heat. “Oh. Fuck.”
“We still only have your word that killing you would kill Dorothy,” Alice points out. “You might just be trying to save your own skin, to buy time until the effect of the well-water dissipates. What proof can you offer?”
“Do you still have the books I gave Dorothy?” West asks.
“They’re in a basket outside the castle, concealed under a bush,” she replies.
“I’ll get them.” I rise quickly, and with a click of my heels and three quick steps, I’m in the darkening forest outside the castle. Since I’ve seen West’s chambers, it will only take me a second to transport myself back there—but I pause after retrieving the books. I clutch them to my chest, my head bowed over them, and I drag in a few long, shuddering breaths.
Those words in my head—were they truly a commitment? A confession of love? Apparently they were enough to lock me into this “mate bond” with him. I hate that my thoughts and my acts with West are being dragged out into the open for everyone to inspect and evaluate.
Maybe I won’t go back in there. They can sort this out themselves, can’t they?
But then West will be alone with the others.... helpless, powerless. What if they decide to kill him anyway, while I’m gone? What if he’s already dead?
I click my heels and take three steps, breathless with terror.
When I snap back into West’s chambers, he’s still alive, lounging on the biggest armchair in the room, pointing to the scrying stone. “—a god-star’s actual tear,” he’s saying. “God-stars can observe humans whenever and wherever they like. The scrying stone grants a limited form of that ability to certain humans with god-star gifts—like compulsion. The god-star who fell to this Isle has been stripped of most of his powers, as you know—including his abilities of coercion and omniscience.”
“So he could use the stone to spy on people?” Alice asks. “But if that’s his goal, why would he destroy the stones that belonged to your siblings?”
“Because the stones have another power. They pose a terrible threat to a god-star like him—one who has been weakened and cast down. I found some information on the matter a long while ago, but I gave up hope of being able to use it, since the spell I would need was inaccessible to me.” He leans forward, his dark eyes glinting. “You see, a scrying stone can be used to trap a fallen god-star in their true form. But such a feat requires a spell from one of the most ancient of spellbooks—”
“The Tama Olc,” says Riordan.
“Exactly.” West’s eyes are bright with triumph. “I knew you carried a book with you, Dorothy, but until our time in the library I wasn’t sure if it was truly the Tama Olc. Nor could I recall for certain whether the Tama Olc was the book I needed. When I left you in Caislean Brea, I came here and searched my personal library until I found the reference to scrying stones being used to trap god-stars. And my suspicion was confirmed—the spell I need is within the Tama Olc.”
“So I’ll have to hunt for the spell,” I say, my heart sinking at the thought of all the pages of close-set script and complex lists of ingredients. Even with my ability to read quickly, it will take a while to locate the right pages. “I have to find it as quickly as possible so we can gather all the ingredients and return to the Emerald City by midnight—and then what? Trick the Wizard into believing we killed you? Deliver him the scrying stone?”
“It will require precise timing,” says Riordan thoughtfully. “A sequence of events that will ensure the outcome we desire.”
“Perfect.” Caer groans and flings himself onto the settee where Jasper is sitting. When Fiero leaps out of the Scarecrow’s lap with a disgruntled yip, Caer settles his head on Jasper’s thighs instead. “Just what I love—sequences of events that must be performed in precise order.”
Jasper soothes him by stroking his hair and playing with the gold piercings along his black furred ears.
“No need to worry your feline head about it,” says West, his tone gilded with condescension. “You and the Scarecrow are simply set pieces in the little play we’ll perform for the Wizard.”
“Who threw the well water on you and took all your powers away?” Caer asks loftily. “Why, that was me, wasn’t it? Maybe you’d like a few permanent decorations while we’re waiting for your powers to return.” He flexes his ebony claws.
Setting the books on a table beside West’s chair, I stalk over to a sideboard and pick up the ornate hourglass standing on its surface. I turn it upside down so the emerald sand begins pouring through. “If anyone harms the Witch in the space of the next hour, they will answer to me.”
I can practically see a scathing retort forming on the Cat’s lips. Jasper quickly bends down and kisses him, effectively sealing off the words. Caer mumbles a protest, but after a moment, his body relaxes and his hand drifts up to caress Jasper’s cheek.
“Show us the information about your family’s mate bonds,” Alice requests, nodding to the books on the table. I pass the historical volume to West, and he flips through several pages before passing the tome to Alice.
