C
HAPTER
35
“I
t’s a summons from the Quartoren,” Luc said as Colin glowered. “No arguments, no uninvited guests.”
Colin slammed the hood down, narrowly missing Luc’s fingers. “Either I’m along for the ride or we’re getting in the truck and heading straight for Terre Haute.”
Luc shook his head. “Look, I respect what you’re trying to do. Any other time, you want to play guard dog, I could appreciate it. But this ain’t my call.”
Colin ignored him. “Get in the truck, Mo.”
“How’s that working for you?” Luc asked. “Orderin’ Mouse around? Had a lot of success?”
“We need to get back on the road or we’ll miss visiting hours,” Colin said.
Luc scoffed. “That truck won’t move ’less I say so. And I don’t.”
“Enough!” I slapped a hand on each guy’s chest and shoved. “Luc, fix the engine. Please.”
“Mouse ...”
“Fix it. Now. Colin is off-limits to you. Understand? Don’t mess with the truck, or him ... leave him alone.”
“You’re making that demand quite a bit these days,” he said. Colin eyed me strangely, but I shot Luc a glare my mom would have been proud of, and he crooked a finger. The truck roared to life. “Happy?”
“Not even close,” I said. “Can you please stand there and try not to piss anyone off?”
“Doesn’t exactly play to my strengths,” he pointed out, slouching against the gas pump.
I turned to Colin. “His delivery could use a little work, but he’s right. If the Quartoren are summoning me, I have to go.”
“What about your dad?”
“Give me a minute to think.” I circled the truck, trying to keep warm while I weighed the options. As I paced, Luc watched me, a half smile playing over his face. Colin watched Luc, not smiling at all. “I’ll call my mom. We’ll tell her the truck broke down outside Indianapolis, and we can’t get to the prison before visiting hours are over. We’ll stay overnight and go see my dad in the morning.”
“Can I listen in when you tell her we’re spending the night together?” Colin asked.
Luc stopped smiling.
“We’ll get two rooms,” I said. “You will, anyway. I’ll be dealing with the Quartoren, and Luc will bring me back to the hotel when it’s over.”
“That’s just about the stupidest plan you’ve ever come up with,” Colin said.
I bristled. “Do you have a better one?”
“I do, as a matter of fact. You tell Luc to fuck off and we go see your dad, like we planned.”
“You’re not listening. I don’t have a choice this time.”
“Why?”
I swallowed and said the thing I knew would anger him most. “Because they’ll kill me. It’s part of the deal I made. If I don’t fix the magic, they’ll kill me.”
He went so still, I wondered if his heart had stopped. I knotted my fingers together, the words falling like stones into the silence. “They put up with me because they have to. They won’t tolerate you.”
He lunged at Luc, shoving him back a few steps. “You let her do this? What the hell is wrong with you?”
Luc shoved back, but it was the red sparks hovering around his hands that really worried me. “
Let
her? You think she asked permission?” He scoffed. “Maybe you haven’t noticed, but that’s not really her style these days.”
“Stop!” I grabbed the sleeve of Colin’s jacket and tried to pull him away. “Colin, come on. It wasn’t his call. It was mine. Completely mine.”
He turned to stare at me. Then he scrubbed a hand through his hair, the ends sticking up in every direction, and started for the truck.
“Give us a minute,” I said to Luc.
“Quartoren won’t take kindly to waiting,” he warned.
“Too bad.” I trailed after Colin. “I have to do this, okay? Please don’t make it harder.”
“You have to come back,” he said, his voice barely audible.
“I will.”
He took my hands in his. “You asked what would happen if you stayed, remember?”
I nodded, not trusting myself to speak.
“Come back, and I’ll tell you.” Still holding my hands, he turned to Luc. “Take care of her. You don’t, and I don’t care how much magic you have—I’ll kill you myself.”
Luc’s expression was as desolate as the sky above. “Something happens to her, you won’t need to.”
Luc’s arms shielded me as we went Between, but the magic tore through my veins, burning me from the inside, clawing its way out. There was a coppery taste in my mouth and wetness on my face.
“It’s getting worse,” I mumbled, closing my eyes as we made it through.
Luc’s voice was urgent and ragged. “Let me fix it.”
“No. You promised,” I said, and then I felt myself falling, and the words didn’t work anymore.
When I woke, something cool and damp touched my face, smelling faintly resinous, like rosemary. A woman’s voice said, “She’s waking up.”
Marguerite.
My eyes opened, closed, opened again. The effort was monumental, but when I could finally focus, the sight of Luc, frown lines bracketing his mouth, eyes clouded with worry, his concern focused on me like a laser ... it was worth it. My hand brushed soft grass, and overhead the sky was as blue and beautiful as a late June game at Comiskey Park. I had the impression of a vast green field, trees marching in neat lines on either side of me, and then the world went blurry.
He crouched down, his fingers hovering over me like he was afraid to touch. “I’m sorry,” he said. “Wasn’t expectin’ it to be this bad.”
I struggled to sit up, and he slipped his arm around my shoulders. “Did you heal me?” I asked, searching his face for any sign of deceit.
He shook his head. There was no lingering glow of magic, no effervescent warmth tumbling across my skin. “Thank you,” I said, meaning it.
“How are you feeling?” Marguerite asked.
“I’ve been better.”
“Luc, fetch her something to drink.”
“We don’t have a lot of time,” he said.
“Time enough,” she said, patting my hand. “Go on. And you can tell your father all the pacing in the world won’t hurry us along.”
When he left, I asked, “Did
you
heal me?” If anyone could find a loophole, it was Luc.
“No. I offered, but Luc felt strongly that you wouldn’t like it.”
“He was right,” I said, surprised and pleased that he’d kept his word.
“He worries about you,” Marguerite murmured, gently dabbing at my face with the cloth. I was about to apologize, but she continued, “It’s lovely, really. He doesn’t often allow himself that sort of luxury.”
Worrying about someone was a luxury? I wondered what Marguerite would make of my mom, who’d medal in worrying if it were an Olympic event. But all I said was, “The Covenant’s a big deal.”
“This is about much more than the Covenant, Mo.”
Before I could ask more, Luc returned with a glass of something that tasted like fizzy lemonade. As I finished it, he said, “Hate to rush you, Mouse, but we need to get moving. Can you walk?”
“Luc,” chided Marguerite. “You’ve forgotten her cloak.”
“I have to wear a cape?” He was wearing one, I noticed belatedly. Raw silk the color of garnets, fastened at the neck with an intricate clasp.
“It’s our custom, to show allegiance to our House.” Marguerite’s cloak was a twin to Luc’s, the heavy material swirling around her feet.
“I don’t have a House.”
“You belong to all of them,” she said. “As the Vessel, you’re a member of Air, Earth, and Water, and as you’re bound to Luc, you lay claim to ours as well. It’s a unique situation, and your cloak reflects it.”
“White. The color of the magic,” Luc said. “And white light is all the other colors of light combined, right? Makes for a nice symbol.”
His words made me uneasy. “I’m not a symbol.”
“Of course not,” said Marguerite. “But we don’t want to give the impression that you favor one House over another.”
Luc’s brow lowered, a sure sign he wasn’t going to bend. “You don’t like it, we can go ten rounds after the ceremony. For today, what people see counts as much as what really is. And I didn’t forget,” he said, addressing Marguerite. “I had other things on my mind.”
He reached behind him. I felt a tug in the magic as he opened up a small window to Between, just as I’d seen kids doing at his House. A moment later, he produced a bundle of cloth and shook it out with a flourish.
The material was the color of fresh cream and lustrous. Along the edges, platinum thread made a pattern of interlocking circles, vaguely reminiscent of the links I’d forged with the Quartoren. Probably not a coincidence. “It’s beautiful.”
“It is,” he said, looking directly at me. With a sweeping motion, he settled the material around my shoulders, and the hem brushed the ground. I felt old-fashioned, like an actress in a costume drama, too aware of the cloak to be comfortable in it. The weight of the fabric slid awkwardly off my shoulders, and I tried to yank it back into place without crushing the material.
“This’ll fix it,” Luc said, gently nudging the robe back into place, covering the two sides of the golden clasp with his palm.
With a pulse of light, the halves fused together, four interlocking circles that rested against my collarbone.
“Magic?” I said, unable to contain my annoyance. “You guys made me a special robe and I need magic to wear it? I can’t even dress myself?”
“Nobody’s makin’ a statement. It’s tradition, that’s all. Not exactly common to see your type wearin’ one of these.”
My type. I’d never asked to be a part of Luc’s world, but there was no escaping it. The binding to Luc, the Covenant with the Quartoren, my promise to Con, and now the magic, threatening me from within ... the more I struggled against it, the more I was caught, like a wild animal in a snare.
Marguerite looped her arm through mine. “You are more than they realize, and you wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t your place. Carry yourself accordingly, and all will be well.”
“You never told me the plan,” I said to Luc.
He glanced away. “Evangeline’s mourning period ends today. Quartoren want you to participate, show everyone how sad you are.”
I stared at him, incredulous. “You brought me here to make nice?” I’d assumed the Quartoren had summoned me to fix the magic, not put on a show for the Arcs. “I can’t stand up there and mourn for Evangeline.”
“Fake it,” Luc said firmly, and guided us across the grassy lane. As we walked, bloodred flames sprang up, creating a pathway. They were identical to the ones that had surrounded Dominic and Marguerite at the shack. I twisted my head to watch them blink out, but this time they stayed, a flickering beacon stretching behind us. Ahead stood a large marble dais, the Quartoren gathered at the far edge, talking intently. Dominic raised his head, motioning us forward, and the muscles in Luc’s arm tensed. “Whole point is to prove you’re on our side.”
The Covenant had guaranteed that.
“What is this place, anyway?”
Marguerite answered, “The Allée. It’s one of our three sacred spaces. The Binding Temple, of course, and the Assembly, where the Quartoren meets. The Allée is used for ceremonies that require the full Houses to meet. Each side is bounded by a different elemental line, but the space within is completely devoid of lines. It is the original neutral ground.”
“The Dauphine was neutral ground. That didn’t do me much good.”
“It’s different now,” Luc said. “We’re bound. No one is allowed to use magic against you here.”
I didn’t feel reassured. Bound or not, Arcs considered me an outsider. Niceties like neutral ground or Rivening, going into another Arc’s mind, didn’t apply to me. And publicly mourning the woman I’d killed seemed like a surefire way to tempt fate, if there really was such a thing.
Luc guided us around a stone rectangle, knee-high off the ground. It looked like a coffin and practically oozed power. I shivered and moved farther away. On the other side were marble steps. Dominic descended and greeted us briefly, then escorted Marguerite back to the stage. Luc paused, taking my hands in his.
“This feels wrong,” I said, studying the Quartoren in their jewel-colored robes. My own cloak was stifling, the clasp chafing my skin.
“You’d leave, wouldn’t you? If there weren’t so much forcing your hand.” He shook his head. “We belong together.”
“Why? Because some prophecy says so?”
He pressed his fingers against my wrist—not where the binding tingled every time I thought about it, but the soft, inner skin, where my pulse had suddenly kicked up. “That’s not the prophecy.”
“I know.” I touched my mouth to his briefly. “Neither is that. But it’s a lot to deal with, Luc. It’s confusing sometimes.”
“We’re a good match. Cujo might keep you safe, but it’s ’cause he wants to hide you away. You’re more than that. You can be, if you let yourself.” He brought my wrist to his lips. “You might not always like me or my methods ... but at least I’m not trying to keep you small.”