Page 33 of This Dark Descent
With a click of his tongue, he sent Eilora flying down the track. Iri tossed his head, eager to pursue, and Mikira let him go. They shot through the chill night, the scent of rain still heavy in the air, only the rush of the wind and the beat of the horses’ hooves punctuating the silence and the dark.
PART 2
The Harbingers lived among humanity, learning and teaching in turn.
Rach was wary of their thirst for knowledge,
while Lyzairin sought to share all she knew.
Skylis wandered among the people in disguise,
and Aslir sat high above them, like a star unwavering in the night sky.
CHAPTER 12
ARIELLE
BY THE ENDof the third week, Ari had finished all but the enchantments and detail work on the golem. The first Illinir race was only two days away, which wouldn’t leave Mikira much time to practice with the horse, but with the litany of enchantments Ari intended to instill in it, she hoped it wouldn’t be necessary. Besides, she’d learned by now that Mikira was a more than competent rider. Reid had brought in a steady stream of jockeys over the last week to challenge Mikira on the track.
She won every time.
Ari only wished she had half as much confidence in her own skills. Since the fiasco with the coin nearly a week ago, she’d practiced the danger enchantment several times, all with the same result. The charm felt like it worked, but when she asked Reid to test it by throwing something at her, the coin only sporadically responded. Meanwhile, Damien watched them with such steadfast intensity that eventually Reid refused to do it again.
The Book of Enchantmentsheld no answers for her. In fact, every book on enchantments Damien had was woefully light on the instruction of actual magic, a result of the government’s strict control of the practice. Enchanters were educated at the royal academy; the only ones who’d need an outside text were unlicensed.
Enderlain was a kingdom built on magic, but like everything else in this cursed land, that power belonged to the nobility and the royal family alone.
None of them said a thing about hearing voices, either. Each time she used her magic, the voice was there, whispering, until she decided her spellwork was good enough and cut off using it entirely. Since then, the voice had been mercifully absent, so much so that she’d begun to doubt the strangeness of it. She’d been sacrificing food money for verillion for months, eating far less than she needed before coming to Adair Manor—her exhaustion was bound to catch up with her. Surely she only needed a break.
Ari stepped back to inspect the horse. She had only the mane and tail left and was rather pleased by the elegant result. Once the rest of her clay dried overnight, she’d complete it in the morning. Then she’d speak the binding spells and bring the beast to life. Only then would they know if it could handle the flood of magic in its veins.
Feeling the press of eyes, she looked to where Reid scrutinized her from his desk. Over the last few weeks, Damien had opened his library to her, and she’d spent countless hours poring over Kinnish texts and stories. They talked philosophy and history, from the central tenets associated with each Harbinger to the royal line decimated during Enderlain’s invasion, and the longer she sat by Damien’s side, the more she noticed Reid staring at her like a mother bird watching her nest.
Tonight had been particularly bad, as the two of them were alone in the workshop, and he’d given up even pretending to be subtle about it.
“Will you just say whatever it is already?” she demanded.
Reid’s jaw shifted as if grinding down the words. “I’ve seen the way you look at him.”
“The way I look at…?” She raised an eyebrow.
He scowled. “I’m only going to say this once. Damien’s been through enough without you adding to it, and he’s got a lot depending on this. If you hurt him, I’ll make you regret it.”
Ari groaned, a burgeoning headache flaring. Yes, Damien was attractive,and she’d developed a fondness for him the more she’d gotten to know him, but he was not her focus. Romance never had been. In truth, she had never been sure whether it was something she even wanted. Rivkah had giggled over the boys in their village, plotting how to capture their attention, and Ari had shrunk away from it like some shelled creature cloistering to protect itself.
She felt different around Damien, though. The more she got to know him, the more comfortable she grew with his nearness, with the intensity of his searching gaze and the way she caught him staring at her. With each passing day, she found herself drawn to those things, to him, but right now, she had other things to worry about.
She waved Reid off. “I’m here to make this golem, Reid. Let me make it.”
Kneeling on the blanket she’d laid out to protect the floor—at Reid’s demand—she began rolling thin strands of her remaining clay to serve as the mane. She would craft the finest racehorse the world had ever seen, they would win the Illinir, and Damien would make her a licensed enchanter. The rest could wait.
The sitting room door burst open.
She and Reid exchanged looks, then leapt to their feet. Reid beat her out, and Ari drew the door shut behind them.
“Shit,” Reid muttered.
A broad-shouldered man with golden skin and a neatly trimmed dark beard surveyed the room from the top of the stairs, a servant scurrying in after him. She thought at first it was one of Damien’s district tenants come to seek his help—then she saw the fear in the servant’s eyes. A low growl shuddered from the desk, where Widget balanced on the back of Damien’s chair, his fur raised on end.
