Page 16 of This Dark Descent
So she could never hurt someone like she had again.
Mikira downed her whiskey in one go and wiped her mouth with the back of her sleeve. “How long will it take you to enchant the horse?”
“Three weeks,” Ari replied.
“Threeweeks?” Mikira gaped. She was short and wiry, with a freckled, hawkish nose and pale skin that was already flush from the drink. “I thought charms only took a few hours.”
“And what exactly do you know about enchanting?” Reid asked, still slumped into the chaise. “Is that a common topic of education on a ranch?”
Mikira’s knuckles turned white from gripping the glass. “More common than in a mortuary, or do the dead have much use for magic?”
Reid’s gaze snapped to Damien, who shrugged, leaving Ari sure she’d missed something. Mikira forced a breath and turned back to her. “Okay, three weeks, though that only leaves us a few days before the first race. If you can charm it for speed, endurance, obedience, and to never get lost, that’ll give me an edge in all four races.”
“Anything else?” Reid asked. “Would you like it to have six legs and be enchanted to fly?”
“I think someone might notice that,” Mikira replied tightly.
Ari almost smiled. “Binding two enchantments to an animal is incredibly hard. Binding three requires an expert hand. Any more than that, and the beast will go mad.”
That was technically true. Golems could handle more, but this girl didn’t need to know that—not before Ari knew if she could do it. The physical and behavioral enchantments shouldn’t be difficult, but she’d never tried combining them with ethereal enchantments, which were arduous on their own.
Mikira grimaced. “Oh.” She set her glass down on an end table. “I only really know breeding enchants, not charming them.”
At that, the girl’s last name clicked into place. “Your family breeds enchanted horses, is that right?”
“Yes?” Mikira tensed as if she expected the answer to bite her.
“I’d like to hear more about how that works sometime.” As a breeder, Mikira would be dependent on the careful curation of bloodlines, on the complex game of inheritance and long process of distilling the purest enchantments into her animals, but that was the extent of Ari’s knowledge.
Something like suspicion lingered in Mikira’s gaze, but she nodded before addressing Damien. “We should attend a couple of the showcase races over the next few weeks to scope out competition.”
The showcases were the last chance for unknown riders to display their skills in hopes of securing a sponsor before the opening Illinir ball. After that, the real race would begin.
“I’ll arrange for someone to do that.” Damien tucked one hand into a pocket, a surety about him that she longed to possess. “In the meantime, our private track is at your disposal for training. Reid can show you to the stables.”
Reid spluttered mid-sip of his tea, but at a look from Damien, he muttered something under his breath and set his cup aside. Standing, he swept his cat onto his shoulder and grumbled, “Come on.”
Mikira looked less than enthused as she followed him out, leaving Ari alone with Damien. She wasn’t afraid of him, but he did make her nervous. It was a thrilling sort of nervous, though, like the moment before she brought a new golem to life.
“I have something I’d like to show you.” Damien offered her a hand up.
She took it, his fingers rough with calluses grazing along her skin. What had a man like him done to earn hands like that?
Damien’s gaze dropped to the line of bruises around her neck. She covered them with a hand. “They’re not as bad as they look.”
His fingers tightened briefly on her own. “Follow me.”
He led her back into the open corridor, the arches reflective of the Kinnish style. From what her Saba had told her, only the city buildings in Kinahara had been large enough to warrant corridors like these. Each one was open aired to take in the warm natural light, and to promote a sense of connection and cohesion among the community, as dictated by the Harbinger Lyzairin’s teachings. Which made them an unusual choice for the cold, rainy weather of Enderlain.
Perhaps a choice of Lady Adair’s? Damien had told her on their way to the manor that his ailing father had not lived there since his mother passed, but nothing more than that. Some rumors said Lady Adair had died from a disease when Damien was only a child; others said a rival house had murdered her. She hadn’t asked, not wanting to pry open old wounds. She knew something of the work they took to keep closed.
Damien slowed outside a guarded door, a Sherakin rifle resting in the sentry’s gloved hands. Like Damien’s revolvers, the rifles were as much a status symbol as the estate itself. With Enderlain’s import restrictions on guns from Celair and Izir, they must have cost a small fortune.
The guard opened the door, revealing a narrow, descending staircase illuminated with enchanted lights.
“When I told you how I found you, it was the truth, but it wasn’t the entire truth,” Damien said as they started down the stairs into a small, cold room, where another guard unlocked a second door. This one opened into a short hallway, rows of cells running along either side. Ari paused on the threshold, curiosity warring with uncertainty.
Damien slowly removed his jacket, revealing broad shoulders and the Lonlarra revolvers holstered against his ribs. “You see, Arielle, I know the truth about you.”
