Page 13 of This Dark Descent
The thought scratched at her like the prick of a stinging nettle, and a sickening helplessness pooled in the pit of her stomach. A photograph lay facedown on the floor, overturned by the thieves, and Ari slid off her stool to pick it up. The glass had cracked across her sister’s grinning face, dividing her in two. Rivkah would have taken the offer without thought. She’d have plunged headfirst into a new adventure, heedless of the risk, and Ari would have followed to make sure she came back okay.
But Rivkah wasn’t here. There was only her.
Those men had made her feel weak. Her body had been useless, her magic even more so. She could do nothing as they tore apart her life and took what they wanted.
She never wanted to feel that powerless again.
She was tired of living in fear of being discovered, of losing control, of her past coalescing into a beast that would devour her.
Ah, but what a beast it would be, whispered the voice.
Her Saba’s voice surged back.Promise me you will be fearless.
It was time she took control.
Setting the photo on the workbench, Ari faced Damien. “I want you to make me a licensed enchanter.”
“Only a greater noble house has the power to retroactively grant an enchant license,” Damien replied. “I can make it happen, but it will require my racer to win the Illinir.”
“How so?”
“That’s house business,” he said, and she had a feeling it wouldn’t be the last time she heard that.
“Then I want access to an enchanter’s education and your protection in the meantime.”
“Done.” Nothing changed in Damien’s expression, and yet Ari still felt his satisfaction like a soft caress. His eyes hadn’t left her, the enchanted candlelight framing him in shadow.
She stared back at him unflinchingly. “When do we start?”
CHAPTER 5
MIKIRA
NOT FOR THEfirst time that day, Mikira wondered what in the four hells she was doing.
Damien had sent her an invitation to lunch, but as she rode Iri up the cobblestone drive of Adair Manor under a light drizzle, all she could think of was her sisters. Nelda had taken one look at her that morning and asked, “You’re going to do something stupid, aren’t you?”
Mikira had forced a smile. “Why do you say that, little frog?”
Nelda wrinkled her nose at the nickname. Lochlyn had always called her that. “Because you’ve got that look on your face, and you always do something stupid when you’ve got that look.”
Mikira had promised her she would be careful, but she couldn’t help feeling that she’d already broken that promise just by being here.
Set in the countryside at the southeastern edge of the Westmire District, Adair Manor sprawled along a low, grassy knoll, the afternoon sun limning the white marble in a silvery light. An enchanted gate granted her entrance to a circular drive, the scent of lavender filling the air from the sea of purple radiating around it. A fountain in the shape of House Adair’s hawk symbol sat in the center with its wings stretched above its head.
A servant in the household’s black and silver livery awaited her at the base of the manor steps alongside a stable boy.
“Miss Rusel.” The servant bowed as Mikira dismounted. “If you’ll follow me, I’ll take you to Lord Adair. Your horse will be seen to.”
Mikira reluctantly handed over Iri’s reins to the stable boy and followed the servant along a wraparound deck to a back entrance in the eastern wing. The manor was quiet, the only movement from the occasional guard patrolling along the open-aired marble corridors. It wasn’t near the level of luxury she’d experienced at Zalaire Manor, but it was a stark reminder of where she was.
The servant deposited her outside a set of towering doors carved with two rearing lions and departed with a bow. Mikira hesitated with her fingers on the handle. She’d spent years trying to disentangle her life from nobles, only to put herself straight into another one’s path. If she walked through this door, she would officially be in business with Damien Adair.
Sorry, Nelda.She pushed open the door.
A spacious common room spread before her, set against a wall of tall, frosted windows reminiscent of still waterfalls. Before the windows stood a massive oak desk cluttered with microscopes, stacks of journals, and a small tray with vials of blood. Reid sat behind it, alternating between peering into a microscope and scribbling furiously in a journal so mangled, it looked like a horse had trampled it.
He glanced up as she descended the three short steps inside, his face already set in a glower. “Yes, please do wear your dirty boots inside. What’s a little mud and horse shit on my clean floors?”
