The wind blew Pritkin against the wall, and the force beating against him caused his face to distort wildly. His vision was unimpeded, though, and the expression in his eyes made it clear that he hadn't guessed what lay under the perfect facade. What had he thought, that the Senate members earned their spots through charity work? I was amazed the man had lasted this long.
«Cassandra is mine,» Mircea told him in a voice that could have melted glass. «Touch her again and, Circle or no, I will bring you over and ensure that you spend the rest of eternity begging for death.»
«Mircea!» Louis-Cesar did not attempt to touch him, but his voice cut through the storm like boiling water through a snow drift. «Please; you know the situation. There are other ways to deal with him.»
The wind slowly subsided and I found myself shaking from an excess of adrenaline. I got my trembling legs under me and walked to where Pritkin was still held against the wall by Mircea's power, although he no longer looked in danger of being forced through it. Several trickles of blood ran down my face into the collar of the robe, but I ignored them. Compared to Tomas, I had gotten off amazingly lightly. A very battered version of my former roommate was searching Pritkin for weapons. Tomas' wrist had already started to knit back together, tendons and ligaments reforming before my eyes, but his face was a mass of scalded flesh and only one eye appeared to be working. I shuddered at his expression, which clearly said that the only reason the mage wasn't already dead was because Tomas hadn't figured out which execution method would hurt the most.
I glanced at Mircea, and his face was no more comforting. The man I knew had always been an even-tempered, almost gentle presence, who told convoluted stories and awful jokes, liked dressing up and didn't mind playing endless games of checkers with an infatuated eleven-year-old. I wasn't as naive as Pritkin—I had known the truth was far more complex. Mircea had grown up in a court where assassination and cruelty were the order of the day, where his own father had traded two of his sons for a treaty he had no intention of keeping and where he had been tortured to what would have been a horrible death if the gypsy hadn't gotten to him first. That sort of thing didn't allow for much compassion. Still, a softer side was there, wasn't it? I honestly didn't know anymore.
I had never felt any kind of threat from him as a child. He had been serene, kind Mircea with laughing brown eyes that crinkled a bit at the corners. It was hard to reconcile that person with what I saw now. Was that terrifying aspect always there, simmering below the surface, and I had simply been too blind to see it? I saw it now, and it created a problem. As much as I disliked Pritkin, I didn't want him dead. He might be—make that probably was—crazy, but I needed him to explain what was happening to me, or to contact someone who could. It wasn't like I knew anyone else to ask. «Don't kill him, Mircea.»
«We have no intention of killing him, mademoiselle,» Louis-Cesar answered, although he kept a wary eye on his colleague. Tomas had finished stripping off the mage's weapons, at least the ones we could see. I had a feeling that a lot were still available to him, and my bracelet seemed to agree. It glowed warm against my wrist, feeling heavier than it had a few minutes ago. I would have liked to get it off—it was starting to creep me out—but this wasn't a good time. «As of this night, we are already at war with the Dark Circle; we have no wish to also fight the Light.»
«Be careful,» Rafe said from beside me. «Make sure he's completely unarmed.»
«He's a war mage,» Mircea said flatly. «He's never unarmed.»
«Until he's dead,» Tomas added, and I noticed that he still gripped a struggling knife in his good hand. He moved like lightning—I guess he liked the irony of killing Pritkin with his own weapon—but Louis-Cesar was a fraction faster. His hand caught Tomas' wrist a hairsbreadth from Pritkin's chest.
«Tomas! I will not have you start a war!»
«If you harbor that thing"—Pritkin all but spat at me—"you'll be at war with us whether you will it or not. I was sent here to find out what she was and to deal with her if she posed a threat. I expected to find merely a cassandra, a fallen sybil, but this is far worse than I anticipated. And what I know, the Circle knows. If I fail to kill her, expect a dozen, a hundred others, to come in my place.» He looked at me, and if looks could kill, he'd have just saved his Circle the trouble. «I've fought one of these things before. I know what they can do and I won't leave it alive.»
He lunged for me again, but all it accomplished was to almost choke him, since Mircea's invisible grip had all the give of a steel glove. It was weird, because Mircea's face was back to its usual placid expression. The eyes were no more than vaguely interested, the cheeks were their normal color and a slight smile curved his lips. The incandescent anger was nowhere to be seen. I shivered. Acting skills like those worried me. I turned my attention back to the mage, and it dawned on me that the only person who I was sure wasn't deceiving me was the man who'd just tried to kill me. Nice.