Page 22 of The Lies We Conjure
“Clues as to the master relics’ locations and forms will be provided subsequently one at a time. The first clue will appear at the conclusion of this reading on this very same paper. Once the relics are gathered, the holder of the four will earn the ring signifying the title of High Sorcerer concerning the Four Lines until the event of their death. All families will retain control and representation of their individual lines of magic no matter who assumes the title of High Sorcerer.”
That means Evander’s inheritance as Hegemony patriarch and the head of the Elemental Line hasn’t changed. Only his chance to control all Four Lines is affected.
After a pause, the paper beneath my hand shifts again.
“I am sure every family and every person present will have their own opinions about the passage of this title. I would implore this extraordinary group to avoid allowing your personal ambitions to negate the nearly four centuries of cooperation our families have in the enduring and sacred tradition of magic. Find my murderer. Find the relics. You have three days.”
CHAPTER9
AUDEN
There’s a definitive point to the end of the sentence, a stern jab of a finger to the sternum, the desk, a waiting open palm.
The study is again deathly still. Something in the air has changed. A shift in pressure. Perspective. Weight.
Everyone in this room has a chance at ultimate, rare power for the first time in nearly four hundred years.
From Ursula’s death don’t come the twin pillars of continuity and stability, but opportunity—raw, ripe, dangerous opportunity.
To rule the Four Lines and the thousands of witches within them.
Technically, practitioners of the Four Lines are all equally skilled, simply different vessels for the magic. But with the master relics comes something impossible otherwise.
Control.
The High Sorcerer holds the masters, which means they hold the eye through which each line’s powers thread.
Like a satellite signal, every single witch within the lines sends their powers to its master relic, which then amplifies and narrows the magic until each spell cast is the tip of an arrow, a blade, a bullet. Without the masters, our powers would be like the wind, always there, but unbalanced—strong at times, weak at others.
With the masters come safety and protection—as long as the High Sorcerer doesn’t intend to harm the lines. Masters literally in hand could make the High Sorcerer holding them so powerful every other witch on the planet couldn’t stop them.
Which is exactly why the master relics have been in one family, in one place, for so long.
I scan the three families before me, left to right, as if reading a newly turned page.
The Cerises whisper like contestants on a syndicated family game show.
The Starwoods watch each other, already in silent, closed-circuit communication.
The Blackgates are divergent. Lavinia looks like she wants to leap into the fireplace. Kaysa stares at the will as if it has more answers to give.
Flanking me, my cousins are barely breathing. That chill on my neck spreads with the new silence, plunging below my collar and down the ridge of my spine. The only audible sound is the snapping of the flames in the hearth.
“So, it’s a game…?” Kaysa Blackgate asks slowly, breaking the quiet like a weak jab from an ice pick.
“I wouldn’t call it a game,” Evander grumbles. He’s bent over, meaty shoulders hunched to his ears, green eyes flicking from Kaysa to the traitorous paper still beneath my palm.
“It may not be a game but itisa competition,” Hex counters with a foxlike grin. He’s doffed his suit coat, tucking it under an arm and releasing his cuff links for a chance to literally roll up his sleeves and get to work. His tiger stripe of tattoos is bare on his left arm, magicked ink as eye-catching as the ruby ring on his right index finger. “We all heard the woman. Let’s find her relics. Let’s do this.”
I swallow down the feeling that the Cerises are a little too eager. I’m all for compartmentalizing, but this isn’t meant to be fun.
“Hold your horses, and give it a second,” Luna says, settling back into the embrace of her armchair. “Parameters are a-comin’, child, couldn’t you feel it when we signed?”
“Parameters? You mean rules to agame?” Hex asks, with a cock of a dark brow.
Evander’s lips flatten into a serious line. “It’s not a—”
The rest of Ursula’s spell hits in a skein of lightning that flashes within everyone in the room like a vein of wildfire, leaving nothing but cooling, ashen embers hardening into place. It pushes outward until it coats our skin, heavy as lead though thin as frost. The worldhas the cool countenance of a winter midnight filtered through that familiar emerald green of Elemental magic. Glittering, frigid, still as death.
