Tanglewood Magic (The Three Sisters Book 2) Page 3

  “Shouldn’t the feather be the easiest to move?” Circe asked him. “I can simply levitate it over the line into Isis and Brody’s quadrant.”

  Rhys scoffed. “It is, but it is also the easiest for them to move back, as well as the other item whose sector you put it in. Also, feathers are extremely hard to layer with enchantment. Their nature is to remain pure.”

  “What do you recommend?”

  He raised an eyebrow at her. “The tree, of course. Green magic has always been my strength.”

  Of course. He owned an apothecary, for Fates’ sake. She lowered her voice. “The tree it is. We’ll go with your strengths first. As for me, I’m fairly good with water and earth elements, but transformation is my specialty.”

  “So I’ve witnessed.”

  From across the field, Medea whistled to get their attention. “We draw to see who goes first.” A servant entered the room carrying an ornate gold box. “The coins are numbered. Number one makes the first move.”

  The servant approached Circe, and she drew a coin. “Two,” she announced.

  “That’s a good position,” Rhys said. “It allows us to react to the first couple’s strategy.”

  “One,” Zelaria said. Her partner, Tamsin, was already studying the board, his knuckle pressed to his chin.

  “Very well,” Medea said. “You go first. House rules are that you get one move to layer as many spells as you can execute at one time. The only requirement is that you must restore the nature of your object to its original state and move it at least one square before you add any other elements to the mix.”

  “What does that mean?” Circe asked Rhys. “Restore the nature of your object?”

  He laughed. “It means if a competitor freezes the water in the chalice, we have to melt it back into water before we can move it or enchant it ourselves. It sounds simple enough, but remember, we must do it in one layered spell. Any more than four layers and things become… unpredictable.”

  No kidding. Circe wasn’t sure she’d ever done a spell like that in her life.

  Medea dropped a red silk ribbon on the floor to signal the start of the game, and Zelaria floated her feather over Medea’s candle. It burst into flames and rained ash into the sector. Circe grimaced, finally understanding the game. Now Medea would have to restore the feather before moving both feather and candle.

  “Our turn,” Rhys said. “I’m second-guessing our plan. Do you trust me to make the first move?” Their eyes met, and she was back in his laboratory, his lips so close to her own.

  She couldn’t help gazing at his mouth as she answered. “Yes, please.”

  Rhys drew his wand and floated the heavy stone over Isis’s sapling, raising it high into the air before allowing it to drop on the plant. Its branches flattened to the floor.

  “That’s it, Bloodgood. The gloves are coming off!” After an exchange of whispers with Isis, Brody moved their chalice into Circe’s candle sector, and the water sloshed over the rim, dousing the flame.

  “Easy enough to fix,” Rhys whispered.

  The game continued, and soon it was clear that each team had their strengths and weaknesses. Medea was a master spellcaster, able to consistently layer five spells at once, but as a dragon, her partner Tavyss could contribute only fire and a very simple protective ward. Isis and Brody were particularly good with setting traps, for example, enchanting the crystal to shatter after the next move, but they were terrible at green magic and lost a turn trying to heal the sapling Rhys had destroyed. Zelaria and Tamsin managed some truly creative fire and water spells, at one point tunneling the water into the stone, which proved a puzzle that thwarted Medea for three moves, but they struggled with defensive magic.

  Unsurprisingly, Circe and Rhys excelled with plants and water as well as strategy, but they often fell for Isis’s traps. After dozens of moves, however, it was clear that Zelaria and Tamsin were in the lead with only the rock and crystal left in the same sector of their quadrant. Rhys and Circe were in second place, with three objects in two sectors, the sapling in one and the crystal and the feather in another. It was their turn.

  “I have an idea,” Circe whispered. “But I’m not sure if it’s against the rules.” She cupped her hand and whispered it into Rhys’s ear.

  “Brilliant,” he said. “Do it.”

  She raised her wand and, with an intricate pattern of interlocking swirls, transformed the sapling into a rock badger. The creature walked into the neighboring sector, shoved the crystal and feather into its marsupial pouch, and then bound into Zelaria’s quadrant where it curled up and fell asleep.

  Medea beamed at her. “You’ve done it! Your quadrant is empty. You’ve won the game.”

  But Zelaria shook her head. “Foul play! The rules clearly state that competitors can enchant the objects in one sector only.”

  Circe laughed. “I did. My transfiguration was of the sapling, layered with a mind-control spell to suggest to the rock badger what I wanted it to do. Once it left my sector, it was on its own.”

  “I believe there is no rule against it,” Medea said. “I declare Circe and Rhys my winners!”

  Chapter

  Four

  Rhys was disappointed when Zelaria and Tamsin turned their backs and marched away from the board without even offering them congratulations. Poor sports. It was a solid game and all in good fun. But then, Zelaria looked like she hadn’t smiled in years, and her partner was equally melancholy.

  In an effort to lighten the mood, he shook hands with the queen, Tavyss, Isis, and Brody and complimented each of them thoroughly. “Brilliantly played!”

  Only after the group started for the dining room did he face Circe. He should compliment her play as well, but Fates, he could hardly look at her in that dress. Her beauty threatened to burn him. He’d respected her from the day she’d started working for him. It was clear from the beginning she had a strong work ethic and was honorable and trustworthy. Now that she’d shown him she was also a talented witch, he desired her more than ever—and that was before she’d gone and put on a dress that skimmed every curve and put her breasts on display.

  A woman had no business being that lovely, intelligent, and talented. He thought his heart might leap through his chest and ask her to dance.

  But it was a terrible idea to pursue Circe. Most of Darnuith was circumspect when it came to Medea’s reign. He heard the whispers. The Fates may have selected her as queen, but the people hadn’t welcomed her with open arms. All three sisters were still considered outsiders.

  And while his fellow witches and wizards might forgive him for giving her a job, he understood it would be an uphill battle if he courted her. His apothecary counted on the trust and loyalty of Mistcraven’s witches and wizards.

  Not that anyone else’s opinion would stop him if there weren’t more to the equation. He’d take the risk if there wasn’t the chance that Queen Medea would find him lacking. Plus, everyone would be watching—or trying to anyway. Disappoint Circe, and things could get awful for him. He hated politics, but it was an unquestionable truth. The scrutiny that would come with a relationship with Circe was not something he wanted to sign up for.

  Oh, who was he kidding? None of that would be enough to keep him from her if he weren’t a damned coward. It was reliving the past he feared most. He pushed that bit down deep. He couldn’t face it. Not now.

  “We should join the others in the dining room,” she said. He’d been so lost in thought that he hadn’t even noticed the room had cleared out and they were now alone. She gave him a sidelong look, her fingers tangled in front of her hips. “Rhys… is everything okay?”

  He’d been a complete asshole to her this entire night. If nothing else, he had to set things straight. “Circe… I should have told you before, your dress is lovely. Please don’t take my foul mood personally. It has more to do with me than with you.”

  He gave her a curt nod, then turned on his heel and headed for the dining room.

  “Oh no, y
ou don’t,” Circe blurted. She caught up to him and turned him by the elbow. “What does that even mean? Three days ago, I thought we… shared a moment, and then you made it clear you only wanted a friendship. Fine, but then you see me and treat me like you either hate me or are offended by me. Aside from the game, which you did seem to enjoy, I thought you were counting down the seconds in your head of how long you had to spend with me. Please explain how this is all about you and not me? Because where I’m standing, it feels personal.”

  He took a deep breath and blew it out, the tension in his face and shoulders going with it. Everything about her drew him in. The soft blush of her cheeks, the intense blue of her eyes, the way she held her spine straight and her chin up. She was no wilting flower. His behavior may have confused her, even hurt her, but she knew her worth and wanted answers.

  He licked his lips and planned to say something vague like wanting to keep a professional distance or it not being the right time, but somehow, the only thing that came out was the one thing he hadn’t wanted to share, almost as if her presence was a talisman designed to elicit the truth.

  “I was married once,” he said, his throat thick with bygone memories. “When I look at you, it reminds me of what it was to feel something. And I just can’t risk that again.”

  This time when he strode away, she let him go.

  Why had he mentioned June? Rhys pushed his food around his plate with his fork, regretting the sudden onslaught of honesty. It made no sense. He hadn’t wanted to think about it. Hades, it was ancient history. Now there was no taking it back.

  Beside him, Circe was carrying on a conversation with her sisters as if the revelation hadn’t fazed her one bit. He listened in, hoping none of her words were about her moody and temperamental boss.

  “How long can you put it off?” Circe asked the queen.

  Medea squeezed Tavyss’s hand. “As long as I have to. I’m the queen.”

  “Put what off?” Rhys mumbled.

  “Eleanor and Brynhoff of Paragon have sent multiple invitations to the palace. They want to meet the new witch queen of Darnuith. But if they agree to a meeting, it’s going to cause complications,” Circe said.

  “No one outside Darnuith knows Medea’s mate is a dragon,” Zelaria said, a note of gossip in her voice. “Or that he is the eldest brother of the king and queen of Paragon.”

  The clank of Rhys’s fork hitting his plate seemed to echo in the room. “Sorry,” he mumbled, regripping the utensil. He’d known Tavyss was a dragon but wasn’t aware of his royal ties to Paragon. If he was the eldest heir, the Paragonian throne was rightfully his. What were he and Medea even doing here?

  “There’s no reason for us to go,” Tavyss said to Circe over his wine. “We don’t owe Paragon anything.”

  Zelaria waved a finger in his direction. “How can you suggest such a thing? A queen must have a relationship with neighboring territories. We have trade routes to consider. Access to the Sanguine River. Paragonian imports. If you refuse Eleanor’s royal invitation again, it will strain diplomatic relations to the breaking point. The damage might already be done, frankly. Paragon will assume you are planning war.”

  Medea frowned. “I’ll send an envoy. We’ll simply explain that domestic concerns in Darnuith are my top priority at the moment. Tavyss’s identity will remain confidential. I will stay here.”

  “If you cared at all about Paragon, you would find a way to go,” Zelaria said.

  Rhys cleared his throat. “I have to agree with Zelaria on this one,” he said softly. “Several plants and herbs we use for healing only grow in the volcanic soil of Paragon. Many lives are saved every year through their application. Our access to them has always depended on a civil relationship at the border.”

  The enormity of what he’d learned tonight about Tavyss continued to fester at the back of Rhys’s mind. Did Circe even understand the tightrope her sister was walking? As the eldest brother to Eleanor and Brynhoff, Tavyss’s role as Medea’s consort would be considered suspicious. All the rumors about the invalidity of the Sacred Lots, that the three sisters had somehow used magic to change the outcome, would explode once Tavyss’s identity was widely known. His presence would definitely cause friction with the other kingdoms, especially if there was any fear that he’d exercise his right to the Paragonian throne.

  No amount of avoidance would keep this secret forever. How many others in Darnuith already knew the truth? If Zelaria knew, likely a few. The woman had never been skilled at keeping a secret. Surely any fears could be assuaged with diplomacy. Couldn’t Medea see that avoidance and secrecy were making things worse?

  Circe glanced between her sisters and then focused on Tavyss. “What if Tavyss stayed here? Medea, you and Zelaria could go, or take one of us.”

  Medea didn’t meet her sister’s eyes but instead stared down at her hands.

  “It’s more complicated than you’re making it out to be,” Tavyss said. “There are things you don’t know, reasons why it might not be safe for Medea to travel now. Things only the Fates can control.”

  “What sorts of things?” Isis asked, her dark eyes narrowing on her sister. Rhys got the distinct impression that the witch had made a deal with the darkness at some point in her life. Night seemed to leach from her skin.

  Rhys glanced back at Medea and Tavyss, who were staring at each other as if they didn’t quite know if they should answer. Medea’s mouth twitched into a smile, but Tavyss gave a sharp shake of his head. What secrets were they keeping?

  Finally, they seemed to come to some agreement. Medea gestured to a servant, and the man poured a bubbly drink into each of their glasses. Rhys sniffed it. Thornberry wine. Very rare. What was this all about?

  Medea stood and raised her glass. “What I’m about to tell you now is strictly confidential,” she said. “It’s very early, and we had not intended to share the news so soon.”

  Everyone silenced. The entire room seemed to be holding its collective breath.

  “Tavyss and I are going to have a baby.”

  Beside him, Zelaria gasped.

  “Congratulations!” Circe stood to reach across the table and tap her glass to Medea’s and then Tavyss’s. Her action led everyone else to do the same, including Rhys, although inside, his shoulders tensed and he ground his teeth. Not everyone would be happy about this revelation. Things would undoubtedly get more difficult for Circe and her sisters once news of the pregnancy got out.

  Zelaria raised her glass. “To Medea and Tavyss and the future of the kingdom of Darnuith.”

  Everyone drank.

  Rhys lowered his glass, distracted by the queen. She was trembling, one hand rising to her throat.

  “What’s happening?” Tavyss reached for her.

  Medea collapsed into his arms, twitching violently.

  Chapter

  Five

  “Medea!” Circe knocked over her chair getting around the table to her sister. “I need to examine her.”

  Tavyss lowered her to the floor. Circe drew her wand but didn’t need to use it. An acrid scent met her nose when she leaned over Medea. She brought her face close to Medea’s mouth, then straightened and sniffed her glass. She knew that scent. Fates’ fury! “Anise and something bitter… Rhys, it’s gila vine! She’s been poisoned!”

  Zelaria’s eyes widened. “Impossible!”

  “We have to get her to my apothecary,” Rhys yelled. “Bring the carriage!”

  “What can you do? There’s no antidote,” Zelaria said, sounding distraught.

  Circe cursed. How could the damned witch be so heartless? That wasn’t what Tavyss needed to hear right now.

  “There is a cure,” Rhys said. “But we must act fast.”

  Tavyss swept Medea into his arms, and they raced for the carriage. Circe, Rhys, and Isis squeezed in, but there wasn’t room for Zelaria, Brody, and Tamsin, who gracefully stayed behind. The driver whipped the hounds into a frenzy, and Circe clung to the edge of her seat to keep from flying into Rh
ys at every turn. It didn’t seem fast enough. Her stomach clenched with every twitch and shiver that racked Medea’s body.

  No sooner had the carriage come to a halt than Rhys took command. He ordered Tavyss to bring Medea to the infirmary while he raced to the storage room for the elixir they’d developed.

  “Hold her!”

  Circe did as he commanded, tipping her sister’s head back so that her mouth popped open. Rhys dribbled the orange sludge into her mouth, then dropped the empty vial on the counter. Medea’s mouth started to foam, and her eyes rolled back in her head.

  “What’s happening?” Tavyss demanded.

  Rhys backed away from the dragon whose voice had lowered to an animal growl. “It’s normal. The antidote has to neutralize the poison. It’s going to look scary for a moment, but it will work.”

  Circe hoped he was right. They’d never tested the antidote on a human. She refused to think of the many things that could go wrong. This was Medea’s only hope.

  As Medea’s body went rigid, Circe met Isis’s dark gaze. Shadows reached from the corners of the room toward her. Isis didn’t have to say a word for Circe to know exactly what she was thinking. If anything happened to Medea or the baby, the two of them would hunt down whoever did this and kill them. No one hurt their sister. No one.

  Tenderly, Tavyss stroked the hair back from Medea’s face and pressed his lips to her temple. “Fight, my love. You can do this.”

  Gradually, Medea’s mouth stopped foaming and her muscles relaxed.

  Rhys cleaned her face with a wet towel and pressed his fingers to the side of her neck. “Her pulse is strong. I think we’re beyond the worst of it.”