Roane narrowed his eyes. From what Davy had said, the girl had an unlimited supply, getting to it was another matter.
“Somehow,” he murmured, “I don’t think that’s the case. Keep trying.”
She glanced from under her eyelids and quickly looked away. “My sister is the one with magic. Only one of us gets the family blessing.”
“Look.” He sighed. His hand curled around the back of the chair he stood behind. “You have magic. Davy said that it’s in you. I trust her. You should, too.”
She squeaked, and her eyes widened. “I do! I trust Davy with my life or I would if she were here . . . When is she coming back?”
He never blinked, and he never looked away.
“I mean . . .” She hung her head. “I was wondering about—if you had found her.” She looked back up. Hope shimmered over her face. “I’d like to help. Can I help?”
“If you have magic. That’s why I called you here.”
“Oh! Yeah, that makes sense. I was wondering, well, I wasn’t wondering but I don’t know. I mean . . . I’ll keep trying. I’ll always keep trying. I feel it’s there. Davy said it is, and I do trust her. She’s my best friend. I know she has that other girl as her best friend, but she sorta betrayed her, so I don’t trust—”
“Stop. Talking.”
She clamped her mouth shut.
“It’s why I called you. Your magic is blocked, and I have another witch for you to meet. He might be able to unblock your magic.”
“Really?”
He nodded and the door opened. A man with long brown hair, frizzy and curly, floated into the room. He wore a gray tunic, and long strings of beads wrapped around his neck. A jewel was placed above his lip, underneath his nose. His eyes were dark, and black makeup was encased around them. He studied her, up and down.
“Mavic, this is Sarah Bright.”
She thrust out a hand. “You can call me Brown.”
The man ignored the offered hand and turned his head. “You insult me, Changeling. I am no more a witch than you are a blood-sucking creature.” The young man gave her a gentle smile. “I am a sorcerer, but Lucas refuses to acknowledge my status. He feels it is too threatening to the world.”
He brushed back a wave of curls and tucked it over his shoulder. He offered his hand and Brown gasped when they touched. A night sky filled her vision with shooting stars that soared at her. Underneath them the ocean roared and waves crashed against each other. Her nose twitched. A whiff of a campfire mixed with incense teased her nostrils.
“You’re a sorcerer?” Goodness.
He nodded and then cast Roane a hard look. “You didn’t tell me she was a Bright.”
“Does it matter?” Roane held his gaze steadily.
A look passed between the two, and Mavic sighed. “I guess not.”
“She has magic that needs to be unlocked. You said you’re the best.”
“You tease me, Lucas. I should curse you for that.”
Roane laughed and patted him on the back. “This will be your biggest challenge. Imagine how your reputation will soar if you’ve freed a Bright witch.”
“There will be ramifications.”
A hard look came to him. “She’s friends with the thread-holder. That can’t be coincidental.”
“Then the thread-holder should free her.”
“She’s a thread-holder. The Immortal powers are not available to her. You know how they are.”
The sorcerer gave him a grim look. “You insult me again, Roane. Stories of an Immortal have been in the wind and much more as of late. Why do you ask for my help if you continue to insult my ability?”
Roane sighed. “It’s not your abilities I am insulting. It’s you.”
Brown closed her eyes and hung her head. She dared not make a sound. The air was thick with tension; tension that she knew not to ignite. Not the slightest movement . . .
Mavic sighed again. “Why do I put up with your disrespect? I have many who worship my teachings. Many who would give their siblings’ lives to learn from my hands.”
Roane took one step closer. His eyes never moved away and he gave him the slightest smirk. “You are here because you dare not make me an enemy, and we all know how you love gossip. You’ve been given a window to see if those slight murmurs of an Immortal are true. We both know your ego is not so grand that it will get in the way of even the possibility of meeting an Immortal.”
Brown counted her breaths. One. Two. Three. Neither man spoke. Neither man moved.
“The witch will come to my dwelling. I will train her there.”
“You will train her here.”