But he wasn’t here to soothe my guilty conscience, I acknowledged bitterly. It didn’t matter. What mattered was that Veronique was being tortured and begging for help and I was the only one who could help her. I was denying her that by not telling Sofie. I was single-handedly risking Veronique’s life because I was worried. Because of a possibility. Nothing more. I assumed Sofie couldn’t be pragmatic. Was that fair? Didn’t Sofie have a right to know? Didn’t Mortimer? Viggo … I didn’t care for his rights. He could shrivel and starve for the next million years in a silent, lonely hell.
But the others … and Veronique! I pulled my knees to my chest as the pieces clicked together. My back, blazing, skin raw, bothered by the lightest of materials. Lash marks would do that to a person. They were whipping her. Recalling the words of the witch last time, Veronique was immune to magic. Like me. Because I got up on that platform to rid myself of the pendant, she was now in the hands of the enemy, being tortured because they couldn’t use good old magic to do it.
I began to hyperventilate. Sliding over to the edge of the bed, I leaned forward and cradled my forehead in my hands, rocking back and forth. What am I going to do? My head throbbed. In, out, in, out. She’ll go crazy if she stays in that dungeon with that torturous dripping sound ... Drip, drip, drip … I’ll go crazy if she stays there. I wasn’t made for this deception.
There was no way around it.
I had to tell Sofie.
It took a minor panic attack and fifteen minutes of a one-way conversation to convince myself that this was the right choice. But how on earth did I deliver news like this? The one thing I knew was that Viggo and Mortimer could not be around. Once I told Sofie, the weight would be off my shoulders and on hers. She could decide what to do and whom to tell. Selfish, but she was made to handle this. She was made of something stronger than titanium.
By the time I walked down the stairs and through the halls, my body was moving in a zombielike daze while my belly was threatening to empty itself of that delicious ham and cheese sandwich. I took a deep breath, my subconscious giving me a pep talk. This will be no problem. I just need to get Sofie alone. A grandfather clock somewhere gonged ten times as I stepped into the Christmas tree room. Everyone was there.
“Lilly’s plane has landed. The rest of them are congregating at the airfield before coming here. None of them will enter alone,” Mortimer announced as I walked in.
Around me, organized frenzy erupted. All thoughts of my confession vanished as a new pot of turmoil boiled over. I stood by, an unnoticed bystander, while Mortimer barked orders on the phone to someone to keep their distance and report back every fifteen minutes. His spies, I gathered. In an excited flurry, Viggo sailed past me, announcing everyone needed to get “blooded up” to be ready for a fight. Amelie shifted closer to Julian, her arms wrapped protectively around his body, no doubt planning on attaching herself to him at all times. Caden stood like an unpleased statue, arms crossed, brow furrowed, glaring from Sofie to Mage.
It felt like the war might begin in this chateau, on this night.
“Ready?” Mage asked Sofie. They shared the longest stare. Finally, Sofie sighed, nodded, and disappeared. What are they up to now? I tried to catch Caden’s eye but it was locked on Bishop, his mouth curved downward with discontent. I didn’t have to wonder what was going on for long. In fewer than ten seconds, Sofie reappeared with a silvery cord in her hand.
Merth. I recognized that stuff. It was nonexistent on Earth until I brought two giant duffel bags back from Ratheus. Sofie must’ve grabbed some as she ran out of Viggo’s palace during the assault. Were they going to bind Lilly with it? Seriously?
“Um, I don’t think that’s the best way to get on this Lilly person’s trusting side,” I said. My voice drifted off as Sofie’s focus zoned in on Bishop, a suspicious and intentional gleam in her eye. Bishop, my unmoving, unspeaking, emotionally frail friend in the corner, was being eyed like mouse in a snake’s cage.
“What are you …?” I said, as it slowly dawned on me what they were doing.
“I’m sorry,” Sofie offered softly as she and Mage moved in to sandwich the motionless Bishop, Mage in behind and Sofie in front, their standard predatory position. Sofie was speaking quietly to Bishop. Standing in front of him, an apologetic smile on her face, threads of paralyzing silvery weed in her grasp.
My head began shaking side to side. “No … no … no.”
“She needs all of her magic available for this meeting, Evangeline,” Caden explained softly. “She can’t risk losing a hold of the binding spell again and we don’t know what to expect of Lilly. If Sofie needs her magic to fend her off or if she gets hurt, she’ll end up releasing Bishop. He’ll do anything to escape, remember?” I looked up to see his eyes boring into me, a stern reminder within. “That’s not good for anyone.”