Page 51 of The Flame King's Queen

“What’s so funny?” he asks.

Still laughing, I tell him, “It didn’t occur to me until this moment, but we both lived because of you.”

Kane’s expression is incredulous. “Me? What in the seven hells did I do?”

Ravenna and the warlocks look just as confused.

“You saved our lives. The High Priest fought with magical blades, and Zabriel couldn’t break his parries. My mate was tiring, and I remembered one of your words. The one you spoke to disrupt the spellbreakers’ magic. I shouted it as loud as I could. It didn’t work as well as when you do it, but it was enough. The magic weakened, and Zabriel struck the killing blow.”

Strong feelings are warring on Kane’s face. He’s pleased the High Priest is dead, but he hates that he was useful to me. After a moment, he sniffs and mutters, “Then that makes us even, witch. I have long been disgusted that you once saved my life.”

“I never wanted anything from you, but certainly, if you wish to make it formal, the debt is cleared.”

“Interesting that you were able to use that word,” Ravenna says to me. “Warlock magic isn’t so different to witch magic after all.”

Kane flicks her a filthy look.

“You have my sincerest, witchiest gratitude, Kane.” I hold the hem of my tunic and curtsey to him.

“And mine, sir, for saving my witch sister.” Ravenna grasps her skirt and does the same.

We’re both fighting smiles as we straighten up.

Kane looks revolted. Rounding on Master Gaun and the others, he snarls, “Nothing’s changed. You still owe me. All of you.”

With one last furious look at Ravenna, Kane departs, slamming the door behind him.

All of the warlocks flinch and exchange uneasy looks.

“There’s no need to be afraid. None of you owe Kane anything,” I tell the warlocks in the silence that follows. I go over to the potbellied stove and fill it with firewood so the bright, dancing flames can cheer us all. “The past is dead, and you are no longer witchfinders. You meet each other now as equals. If Kane comes here again and causes trouble, send for the City Guards. I’ll ask them if they can patrol this area more frequently.”

Master Gaun puts his hands in his sleeves and bows his head. “That is thoughtful of you, Lady Isavelle, but I’m ashamed to say that Kane speaks the truth. We do owe him recompense, and it is a debt we will repay. Now, how may we help you?”

With the High Priest already dead, I can’t imagine what Kane hungers for that the warlocks can provide. They can’t offer up Emmeric, but the warlocks seem reluctant to discuss the matter any further.

“Ravenna and I were hoping to consult the archive for useful spells.”

The warlocks all brighten and begin to bustle about.

“Of course, of course,” Master Gaun says, his whole demeanor changing as he ushers us over to a large wooden table and clears a space for us. Master Simpkin tends to the stove one-handed. I suppose he burned himself because of the shock of Kane’s intrusion. Master Artor brings us lanterns as well as paper, quills, and ink.

“Please tell us what manner of spells or which schools of magic you wish to research, and we will search our archives from top to bottom,” Master Gaun promises.

“I wish to learn some healing spells,” Ravenna tells him. “I think they will balance out some of the poisons I’ve been using recently. I wouldn’t wish to taint my soul with too many toxins.”

Master Gaun’s brows creep up his forehead. “I noticed my brother warlock had an acrid scent around him and his humors seem unbalanced. You…you haven’t been practicing your poisons on Master Kane, I hope?”

“Why, yes, I have. I needed to persuade him to let me go, and I’m afraid he took a sickening amount of persuading.”

“Miss Ravenna is, ah, highly proficient. Master Artor, will you seek out the volumes that our lady has requested? And you, Lady Isavelle?”

“I’m not sure what I’d like exactly,” I say slowly. “I’m curious about Emmeric’s magic and his control over the undead. Anything that weakens his abilities is interesting to me.”

Master Gaun taps his chin thoughtfully. “We have some exceedingly dark and despicable books on necromancy, if you’d like to peruse them. Perhaps that will help you understand him better.” He hurries away to the back of the room, unlocks a gated area with a key hanging from his belt, and returns to me with a small stack of very old books.

When he places them in front of me, I can’t help but lean back in my seat. There’s a strange, uncomfortable sensation leaking out of them, like the creeping feeling you get from walking through spiderwebs while seeing something menacing out of the corner of your eye.

“Oh, you can feel that?” Master Gaun asks. “It seems you have an affinity for necromancy, but that would make sense given your ability to wield interplanar magic. It goes hand in hand with necromancy, as the dead exist on another plane.”

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