CHAPTER 40
HER HEART THUMPED IN HER CHEST.
Orion glanced at her, dressed in white silk, waiting for him on a bed.
Toven stepped forward, pulling a book from his back pocket and flipping it open.
“Translated from the Starkish,” Toven said. “I’ve checked the translation.
It’s accurate.” He met his father at the portal as it hissed closed behind him.
“I’ve outlined the steps. The candle, the blood, the incantation—”
Orion Hearst raised a hand, halting his son. “Let me see it, Toven.” He took the book and peered down, turning the pages. The air around Toven seemed to buzz with twisting energy.
A page turned, and Orion paused. His brow arched. Briony watched his eyes move quickly over the same passage until he lifted them to her.
The book snapped shut. Orion assessed her and said, “And if it doesn’t work?”
“It will.” Toven’s mouth was a hard line.
“And if it doesn’t?”
“Then I’ll think of something else.”
But Orion wasn’t looking at his son; he was looking at her. She blinked at him, feeling the question under her skin.
If this doesn’t work, will you do this the easy way?
She swallowed and tilted her head into the tiniest of nods.
Orion’s eyes returned to the text, browsing the words, casually, as one might window-shop. He was supposed to be in Southern Camly. He was only permitted to leave for emergencies. They’d brought him in for an illicit dark ritual, and he had the nerve to act as if they had all the time in the world.
As if all of their lives weren’t at stake.
Toven’s fingers twitched. Serena’s breath stirred her hair.
Orion closed the book and handed it back to Toven. He looked at the mantel clock and turned to her. “Ready.”
“Let me see the book,” Briony said, voice too loud for the quiet room.
“Let me read it first—”
“There’s no time, Miss Rosewood,” Orion said, and she could hear the finality in his voice as he crossed to the unlit candle by her bed.
“What does it do?” She turned to look up at Serena, then to Toven near the windows, watching silently.
“There’s no need to worry, dear,” Serena whispered into her ear.
Orion struck the match. And the flames hissed out in the fireplace.
The only light in the room came from the two candles, casting shadows against their cheekbones.
Serena crossed her legs and guided Briony to lie with her head in her lap.
She stared at the canopy as her mind raced.
Who was coming? Why were they checking her virginity? Why now?
And then all thoughts were swept from her mind as Orion Hearst climbed into her bed.
She jerked her legs, almost kicking him as his long limbs crawled like a panther to sit beside her. Serena grabbed her arms to calm her, to hold her still.
“What does this spell entail?” she repeated, her voice cracking in her dry throat.
Orion’s calm features sharpened into a smirk. “Now, now. Don’t fret, Miss Rosewood. Just lie back and think of Evermore.”
“Orion,” Serena warned.
Briony’s heartbeat strained beneath Serena’s fingers, pounding to get out
of her. And before she could ask another question, Orion was pulling a knife from his robes, his impassive mask on once more. She gaped at the glint of the blade as he pressed one long hand firmly against her collarbone. The knife drew a quick, shallow slice against her heart, too quick for her to wince.
Orion’s lips formed a silent prayer, wisps of Starkish brushing across her forehead.
She looked at Toven, bathed in moonlight near the windows, watching with his hand clapped over his mouth. Their eyes met.
And the candles went out.
The darkness was like a cold plunge into water. If she hadn’t had the pressure of Serena’s fingers on her wrists, she’d have shrieked.
Orion’s cool tones dripped ancient words across her face. He shifted back, hovering over her stomach and chanting.
Her limited Starkish caught words like “wolf” and “protection.”
She jerked her head over to where Toven stood in the corner, and her dizzy mind imagined she could see the whites of his eyes reflecting the darkness back at her.
A sharp pull from her belly, like the worst kind of menstrual cramps. She gasped, jerking. Serena held her down, and Orion raised his voice as he continued chanting.
It felt like her intestines were fighting to twist in opposing directions. She squirmed, trying to stretch her body into positions that would alleviate the cramping, but there was a wrenching low in her stomach.
She groaned, and the floor creaked near the windows.
A tight pop, as if something inside of her dislocated. She scrunched her eyes shut in pain, blocking out the darkness.
And then a wash of peace. Like sunlight. Her stomach relaxed.
She opened her eyes, praying that it had worked, and found Orion Hearst’s face boring over her in the candlelight.
No. Not candlelight. A ball the size of her fist hovered over her stomach.
Just like the spell the nurses cast months ago, burning so white it looked blue.
It cast shadows across the pitch-black room, sparking warmth in Orion’s gray eyes.
Serena’s fingers threaded through her hair gently as every pair of eyes stared at the ball of energy, symbolizing what hadn’t yet been taken from her.
She watched the light fluctuate like fairy wings held it afloat.
A glass jar pushed into view, scooping slowly under the orb, capturing it, and closing a lid over the top. Toven screwed the lid on, watching the light breathe. His eyes danced with its glow, and his lips parted in wonder.
He held the jar in one hand and placed a bundle of branching white flowers over her belly with the other. He cast the Virginity Detection spell over her. The scan hummed over her head and toes, scanning toward the center. When the magic reached her abdomen, the four of them watched with bated breath.
The bundle didn’t catch fire, the way it had when she tested positive for purity.
She didn’t know what was supposed to happen if she wasn’t a virgin. She
hadn’t seen it.
No one moved. She heard Toven swallow.
“Did it work?” she whispered.
A pause. And then: “It seems so,” Serena breathed into her hair.
Orion cast the charm again, and they watched as the results were the same.
Orion stood abruptly from the bed, looking down at her, and then up to Toven. “You won’t be able to contact me if there’s an issue until tomorrow afternoon.”
The light from the glass jar in Toven’s palm cast eerie shadows across Orion’s face. He turned, slicing his hand and using the blood to make a portal out of the property. He entered the void without a backward glance.
With a wave, Serena lit the sconces low. She slid off the bed and gathered the ritual candles. “I apologize for all this fuss, Briony, dear,” she said, still not looking at her. “Get some rest. We’ll talk in the morning.” She sent Toven a stern look before leaving, the door clicking softly.
Briony took a few breaths before she jolted upright. She sat in a bed in a white gown, blood from her chest dripping on the sheets, and stared at Toven Hearst, who held her virginity in his hands.
The relief on his face dissipated, and he paled as he looked at her. He placed the jar delicately on her bedside table.
“This should stay here.” He swallowed. “Keep it safe. It would...it can catch quite a price on the black market, so it’s best to keep it hidden in your room.”
She blinked at the light, still the brightest source in the room, even with the sconces lit and the fireplace back to roaring. She wondered if she should feel different.
“I apologize for the suddenness,” he said, shifting his weight. “I was only notified yesterday afternoon. And the spell required my father, and I wasn’t even sure if I could—”
“Why would it matter to Mallow if I was still a virgin?” she asked.
Toven pressed his lips together. “Liam tipped me off that Canning requested an audience with Mallow. I suspect it has something to do with getting revenge for outlawing his elixir.”
Briony stared down at her bare feet. “But again...why would Mallow care?
The pressure was on from your friends to be intimate with me, but surely not from Mallow.”
Toven closed his eyes and seemed to take a fortifying breath. “Mallow has made clear to me that she supports any way in which to harvest the most
power from you,” he said carefully.
Briony’s heart dropped. Sacral Magic.
Suddenly, Briony remembered when she’d been brought before Mallow the first time.
Have fun with her, Toven. I look forward to how powerful you become once bonded to her.
That was moments after Mallow had learned that Briony had feelings for Toven—moments after she learned that Toven might not ever need an elixir like Canning’s to entice Briony to— Briony felt sick. She couldn’t believe there was a woman in the world who would wish such a thing on another woman.
But she refocused on the problem at hand.
“I want to see your research,” Briony said. “I want to read up on the
spell.”
He nodded, eyes distant but directed at the jar. “Of course. Tomorrow, after they—”
She scowled. “Now. I’m awake. You’re awake.” She stumbled out of bed, the long silk nightdress twisting around her legs in an awkward constriction.
Unraveling it brought her close to him.
He glanced quickly down to the cut on her chest. She wondered if he thought about the last time she was in a silk nightgown with blood trailing down her chest.
He swallowed. “You should get your rest.”
“Give me the book,” she demanded.
He was always keeping information from her, especially if it pertained to her directly. Irritation sharpened and bubbled in her chest.
But this time something must have been different. He extended the book to her, watching as she grabbed it and flipped to the marked pages.
It was still in Starkish.
She cast a translation spell and took deep breaths, focusing on the words as they arranged themselves. It was done. There was nothing she could do to change what had happened or how it had happened. She just needed the specifics.
It was a journal. A magician’s entry from two thousand years ago, back before they started measuring time after Vindecci’s death. It detailed a ritual to save his daughter’s “purity” from “the wolf.”
Two candles. Two parents. The mother cleanses, the father bleeds her.
She slammed the book closed, cheeks burning in anger and embarrassment. She pivoted to Toven, ready to release her pent-up rage.
A warm hand dropped on her shoulder. He was staring down at the blood dripping from the slice over her heart. He raised his hand and cast a spell to sew the skin back together. His eyes didn’t leave her chest as she felt the cut heal.
“What if it hadn’t worked?” she asked, voice thin.
He stepped back from her and ran his hand through his hair. “Then I would have thought of something else. A different spell.”
She wondered at what point he would have come to her room, held her down on the bed, and penetrated her.
Minutes before the “visitors” arrived? Or perhaps he’d rather let them all die instead.
“And if you couldn’t find another spell? When would you have consulted me and my opinion on the matter?”
He blinked at her before looking away to her bookshelves. “I was hoping I could find something like a glamour. Something cast to deceive the detection spell.” He swallowed thickly. “I was hoping—”
“You were hoping I’d never have to know,” she finished for him. Her skin buzzed with anger. “To cast a spell and brush it under the rug.”
His lips pressed together tightly. “Do you not understand that we could be under investigation? By order of Mallow, you are being examined tomorrow morning, and we have no idea why—”
“I understand perfectly, thank you,” she spat. “I also understand that you had twelve hours in which you could have told me what was going on”—he took a breath to interrupt—“to inform me of the problem so that we might be able to come up with a solution together, but instead you chose to surprise me
—”
“My family is in jeopardy, Rosewood—”
“And you’re blaming me for that?”
“Sometimes I have to act without your approval to do what’s best for my
family! Not just you, all four of us!”
Her lips opened in a silent gasp.
His eyes widened as he seemed to realize what he’d just said. His mouth snapped shut, horror dawning over his features. Before she could press him further, he turned on his heel, dashing for the door.
Briony gaped at the empty doorway for several long moments before sitting down on the corner of her bed. She stared at the fluttering light in a jar on her nightstand, listening to the echo in her ears of him calling her family.
* * *
At seven the next morning, Toven knocked on her bedroom door.
“They’ve arrived.” His voice was flat. And his eyes were cold.
She had been dressed for hours, unable to sleep. It seemed the same for him. Both of them resigned to whatever fate awaited them.
Pulling her bedroom door closed behind her, she followed him down the stairs and to the drawing room.
As he pushed open the door, he took her elbow in a firm grip, tugging her across the threshold behind him.
She cataloged the room quickly. Serena. A man and a woman in nurse uniforms that she didn’t recognize. Cohle. And turning to greet them, a smug leer on his face, was Reighven.
She stumbled, her stomach tight, before she cast her gaze down to the floor.
Toven’s steps slowed, but he gave away no other reaction.
“Cohle. Reighven,” he greeted.
“Apologies for being so early, Hearst,” Cohle said without a hint of remorse. “But your mother tells me you’re early risers here at Hearst Hall.”
He smirked at her and Toven.
“Yes. Thank you for your hospitality, Serena,” Reighven said with a wink.
Serena stepped forward. “Of course, Lag.” A thin smile pasted on her face. “And I’d prefer if you called me Mrs. Hearst.”
Briony turned her eyes down to the stone floor. Her skin was cold, and her breath was shallow.
“What’s this about?” Toven asked. He crossed his arms over his chest, shifting in front of her.
“Reighven and I have been tasked to check in on the heartsprings,” Cohle said. “There’ve been a few issues, and Mallow has asked us to follow up.”
His voice scratched down her spine.
The male nurse conjured an examination table and silently gestured toward it. They’d been silenced, she realized.
She padded to the exam table, and all eyes were on her as she obediently slid up onto it.
“Looks like you learned how to play nice after all, Princess,” Reighven said.
“I’ll ask you not to speak to my heartspring,” said Toven coldly. “You may address me if you have a direct order for her.”
Briony lay back, her mind numb. She breathed deeply, pulling air into her empty lungs. A lake with still waters.
“What kind of issues?” Serena asked. “What’s wrong with the other heartsprings?”
The nurses hovered over her, silently casting several scans.
“One of them wasn’t properly sterilized,” Reighven said.
And Briony felt the room shake, quivering before her eyes.
There was a thick silence as the nurses tested her.
The only other woman she’d heard was to be sterilized was Phoebe, the other surviving Rosewood. Had Phoebe become pregnant?
Her chest shook.
Her fertility would be ripped from her again. This possibility. This small chance of a future.
The male nurse tapped against her left hip bone. A dim red light appeared.
He switched to Briony’s other side, and with a tap, a bright green illuminated the man’s face.
A pause, like skipping a step on the stairs. She felt every eye in the room on her waist. She didn’t dare look at Toven.
And then a sharp, “Ha!” cracked from Reighven’s throat. He chuckled, and the room shook with it. “Two months with a fertile slut and she’s not knocked up? You check to see if your boys swim, Hearst? With me, you’d have triplets by now—”
“That’s enough, Lag,” Serena hissed. “Please remember your manners while you’re in my house.”
Reighven scoffed. He breathed as if he would say something else, then stopped himself. He turned back to the male nurse. “Scan for her virginity.”
The room tensed. Cohle laughed.
“Toven, you’ve fucked her, of course,” Cohle said.
“Gentlemen,” Serena warned.
“I want proof,” Reighven said. “Do it.”
The female nurse produced a bundle of branching white flowers. Briony
held her breath as the familiar scan washed over her, centering on her abdomen, then stopped. It found nothing. Briony almost cried in relief.
“See, Lag? Stones...” Cohle sighed. “All right, carry on. Finish the
sterilization.”
The room went silent.
The male nurse stepped forward.
Briony braced herself for the wrenching pain she’d felt the last time her tubes had been severed. She looked past the arm of the nurse toward the ceiling and took a shuddering breath, focusing on anything but the image of children with her curls and gray eyes— “Don’t—” A throat cleared. “She’s my property. Don’t I get a say here?”
Briony swallowed, blinking rapidly. A thick silence fell like snow.
“Why, Hearst? You want pups?” Reighven chuckled.
Cohle hummed. “The Rosewood girl and all tied to her line must be sterilized. Clearly, you know why.”
“Carvin’s wasn’t done right, either, and we took care of that yesterday.”
Phoebe. Briony’s pulse thudded.
Toven seemed to have come to the end of his arguments.
Briony could see the faint green light over her hip fading, winking out of existence.
Her limbs were heavy. She felt cold and useless. Pain pricked behind her
eyelids.
It would all be over soon.
From the corner of her eye, the male nurse lifted his hands and positioned them over her hip. Briony squeezed her eyes closed as he prepared to cast— A crack of wind whipped by her. There was a sudden voiceless gasp and a whoosh of air.
Briony’s eyes snapped open as a grunt sounded to her right, followed by a
crash!
“Mother!”
Briony jolted, springing to her side off the table. Toven was next to her in a heartbeat.
The male nurse was on the floor several feet away, face dazed, as if not
quite knowing what had sent him there.
Reighven lay crumpled against the far wall, head lolling and unconscious.
Serena Hearst’s hands were outstretched, magic crackling between her fingers as she faced Cohle, who looked as shocked as Briony felt.
“I’m afraid I can’t let you do this,” Serena said, voice pitched low and dark, eyes intent on Cohle. “Miss Rosewood is under my protection.”
