Page 96 of Vicious Kings
Every head turns toward me. Again. I'm getting really fucking tired of being the center of attention. But I'm surprised a professor is actually acknowledging me in some capacity other than my omega nature.
And of course it's to ask me about something that could get me executed for treason. But if I'm going to play my role here, I have to give them something. Nothing they don't already know.
"We used iron primarily," I say, keeping my voice steady. "Sometimes silver. Cold-forged, blessed with hunter resonance. Effective against most Fae and some shifters."
"And the enchantment process?"
"Depends on the weapon, and the wielder," I answer carefully. "Blood binding is most common. The weapon is forged with the hunter's blood mixed into the metal, creating a resonance bond between wielder and blade. In the case of a bowhunter, both the bow and arrows are enchanted."
Professor Thorbridge nods, looking pleased, even though I know I'm not telling him anything new. "Excellent. And the limitations of such a process?"
"The weapon only works for the hunter who forged it." I think about my mother's silver bow and arrow, her prized possession, probably gathering dust somewhere in this very armory. "If they die, the enchantment dies with them."
"Precisely." He turns to the board, symbols appearing in flowing script. "Fae enchantment works differently. Rather than tying the magic to a specific wielder, we bind it to the weapon itself. This allows for transfer of ownership and maintains the enchantment indefinitely."
The lecture that follows is admittedly fascinating. He demonstrates various techniques, showing how different materials respond to different types of magic. Silver for lunar enchantments, gold for solar, iron for... nothing, because iron is antithetical to Fae magic.
Which is exactly why hunters use it.
I take notes frantically, filing away everything that might be useful. How to identify the signature of an enchantment. Weakpoints in magical defenses. The specific frequency needed to disrupt most Fae weapons.
All things that could help me kill a prince.
Corvinus sits beside me, close enough that our shoulders almost touch. I can feel his attention on me even when he's supposedly watching the demonstration.
"Your pen," he murmurs, nodding toward my hand.
I look down to find ink leaking through my fingers. The pen has cracked, but there's no way I was gripping itthathard. I think back to when Caelyx used his ability to scatter my papers and wonder if Corvinus possesses a similar one, that son of a bitch. Black ink stains my palm, dripping onto my notes.
"Shit."
"Here." He produces a handkerchief from nowhere, just like Tallon did. And it's fucking monogrammed. "Let me help."
"I can clean my own hands."
"I'm sure you can." But he's already taking my hand in his, wiping away the ink with gentle strokes that make my breath catch. "But I insist."
The ink is everywhere. My palm, between my fingers, under my nails, and a splash of it is already spreading across my shirt. It should be a simple cleanup job, but Corvinus takes his time, his touch lingering longer than necessary.
"This isn't working," he says finally. "Come with me."
"Where?" I ask warily. The look Tallon is giving us lends credibility to my theory this was no accident.
"To get you properly cleaned up." He stands, pulling me with him. "Professor Thorbridge, if you'll excuse us?"
The professor waves a hand dismissively, already moving on to the next demonstration. And just like that, we're in the hallway, Corvinus leading me toward the back of the building.
"I can wash my own hands," I protest, even as I let him guide me.
"The ink is enchanted." He pushes open a door marked with symbols I can't read. "It won't come off with regular water."
I look down at my hand, frowning. I don't feel any magic. Usually, Fae magic tingles or burns when I touch it, like a mild allergic reaction.
The bathroom is surprisingly nice for a building dedicated to weapons training. Clean stone, seemingly non-enchanted mirrors, and sinks carved from single pieces of marble.
Corvinus turns on the tap, and the water that comes out shimmers slightly. Fuck, I guess that's enchanted too.
"Give me your hand."
