them is my only shot at answers. Will it be enough to make him speak?
Dagursson gapes in disbelief when I reach his worktable. “Whatever Alcántara wants, I assure you, it’s not there. Does he have a message for me or not?” He heaves a put-out sigh and scoots back his chair.
“Alcántara,” I say quickly, “says no need to get up for the fool boy.”
He leans back, bemused by this unexpected reply. “Would the ‘fool boy’ care to explain?”
I’m at the table. It’s time. I graze my power with an invisible touch.
His eyes shrink to slits in his desiccated face. I sent a pulse of my power, and he felt it. I have to bite back an astonished grin. This changes everything.
“What game are you playing?” Dagursson’s gaze flicks to his scrolls, suspicious now. “Don’t tell me Hugo has developed a sudden taste for reading.”
I grab one at random. “He wanted me to get this.”
Dagursson shoots to his feet. “What does he want with the Normandy scroll? Does he…” But my lighter is in place, dancing beneath the ancient parchment. The instant he spots it, he bares his fangs in a hiss. He seems to grow, to rise, his energy looming over me, making it hard to breathe.
My heart slams in my chest. Annelise, Annelise, Annelise , it repeats with every beat. Whatever happens, this is for you. “Move and it burns,” I tell him. The steadiness in my voice amazes me.
“What dirty, petty, childish trickery is the Spaniard up to now?” His eyes are brighter than any flame, riveted to my hand. “I tire of his political games.”
He’s stuck on this idea that I’m only here at Alcántara’s behest. Though it’s the thing keeping me alive at the moment, the assumption that I’m incapable of my own motivations rankles. He’ll see.
He shifts, and I shout, “Stop,” the word a harsh scrape in my throat. I ease the lighter closer to the scroll, close enough to make the tan parchment glow golden. “Sit down. I have questions.”
“ You have questions? You don’t ask questions. And you don’t…order…me.” There’s a ripple in the air—the mere sense of motion before it’s even visible. He’s leaping toward me.
I don’t hesitate. I kiss flame to scroll. The thin, ancient parchment lights instantly. A warm, sweet smell, like incense, fills the room. I toss it in the bin and snatch up another scroll at once, daring him to move. “Sit or I light this one, too.”
Dagursson roars. But he’s stopped, just on the other side of the table.
“Sit,” I repeat, shouting to be heard. The scroll is crumpled in my fist. It’s close enough to the flame that I smell it. “I could burn these all day. So back up and sit down.”
Already I’ve made it further than I thought I would. I could survive this—survive to be with Annelise. I think of her, summon my strength. I’ve never stretched like this before. I reach deep for my power, repeating her name in my mind like a mantra. Annelise.
I think of her as I draw my power, and an internal dam breaks. Sensations swamp me. The taste of metal floods my mouth. A chill ripples the back of my neck. And, above all, a darkness beckons, just out of reach—my power, not truly touched before this moment. But I feel the vastness of it yawning within me at my core. It’s immeasurable. Terrifying. Seductive.
Dagursson grows silent. “Ah, you use your powers.” He purses his lips and shuts his eyes, inhaling dramatically. “How thrilling.”
The parchment smolders in the small trash can, and I wave the other scroll over it. “Now sit back down or I toss this one in the bin, too.”
He gives me an ominously blank stare. “Don’t think just because you’re Alcántara’s pet I’ll show you mercy.”
I shrug. “I imagine you wouldn’t.”
He glares down at his feet, as if he might find an answer there. “You’re using your tricks. On me.”
“Looks that way. Now sit.” I impart the command with every ounce of force at my disposal.
He pauses,
Dagursson gapes in disbelief when I reach his worktable. “Whatever Alcántara wants, I assure you, it’s not there. Does he have a message for me or not?” He heaves a put-out sigh and scoots back his chair.
“Alcántara,” I say quickly, “says no need to get up for the fool boy.”
He leans back, bemused by this unexpected reply. “Would the ‘fool boy’ care to explain?”
I’m at the table. It’s time. I graze my power with an invisible touch.
His eyes shrink to slits in his desiccated face. I sent a pulse of my power, and he felt it. I have to bite back an astonished grin. This changes everything.
“What game are you playing?” Dagursson’s gaze flicks to his scrolls, suspicious now. “Don’t tell me Hugo has developed a sudden taste for reading.”
I grab one at random. “He wanted me to get this.”
Dagursson shoots to his feet. “What does he want with the Normandy scroll? Does he…” But my lighter is in place, dancing beneath the ancient parchment. The instant he spots it, he bares his fangs in a hiss. He seems to grow, to rise, his energy looming over me, making it hard to breathe.
My heart slams in my chest. Annelise, Annelise, Annelise , it repeats with every beat. Whatever happens, this is for you. “Move and it burns,” I tell him. The steadiness in my voice amazes me.
“What dirty, petty, childish trickery is the Spaniard up to now?” His eyes are brighter than any flame, riveted to my hand. “I tire of his political games.”
He’s stuck on this idea that I’m only here at Alcántara’s behest. Though it’s the thing keeping me alive at the moment, the assumption that I’m incapable of my own motivations rankles. He’ll see.
He shifts, and I shout, “Stop,” the word a harsh scrape in my throat. I ease the lighter closer to the scroll, close enough to make the tan parchment glow golden. “Sit down. I have questions.”
“ You have questions? You don’t ask questions. And you don’t…order…me.” There’s a ripple in the air—the mere sense of motion before it’s even visible. He’s leaping toward me.
I don’t hesitate. I kiss flame to scroll. The thin, ancient parchment lights instantly. A warm, sweet smell, like incense, fills the room. I toss it in the bin and snatch up another scroll at once, daring him to move. “Sit or I light this one, too.”
Dagursson roars. But he’s stopped, just on the other side of the table.
“Sit,” I repeat, shouting to be heard. The scroll is crumpled in my fist. It’s close enough to the flame that I smell it. “I could burn these all day. So back up and sit down.”
Already I’ve made it further than I thought I would. I could survive this—survive to be with Annelise. I think of her, summon my strength. I’ve never stretched like this before. I reach deep for my power, repeating her name in my mind like a mantra. Annelise.
I think of her as I draw my power, and an internal dam breaks. Sensations swamp me. The taste of metal floods my mouth. A chill ripples the back of my neck. And, above all, a darkness beckons, just out of reach—my power, not truly touched before this moment. But I feel the vastness of it yawning within me at my core. It’s immeasurable. Terrifying. Seductive.
Dagursson grows silent. “Ah, you use your powers.” He purses his lips and shuts his eyes, inhaling dramatically. “How thrilling.”
The parchment smolders in the small trash can, and I wave the other scroll over it. “Now sit back down or I toss this one in the bin, too.”
He gives me an ominously blank stare. “Don’t think just because you’re Alcántara’s pet I’ll show you mercy.”
I shrug. “I imagine you wouldn’t.”
He glares down at his feet, as if he might find an answer there. “You’re using your tricks. On me.”
“Looks that way. Now sit.” I impart the command with every ounce of force at my disposal.
He pauses,
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