Page 22 of Cursed Lifeline

When I went through the change, we learned of my magical powers. A gift handed down through birth from my mother. Her connection to witchcraft is also the reason why most of the other members of the coven have magical powers, too. All of our kind have the ability of speedy travel, accelerated healing, flight, and superhuman strength. Most of us can read minds, some can even shape-shift. But through time, and with my mother's tutoring, I have also mastered the gift of illusion and teleportation.

Dimitri, and Talon can control nature, and conjure objects just like my mother, thanks to her teaching. However Talon is still coming into his powers, being the youngest of us all, and there may be more to his abilities in the future. Like the recent discovery of his tricks with shadows.

The only one of us that lacks magic at his fingertips is Viktor. Mother says it's because he is more like our father, and I am more like her. A fact that has always made him jealous and has caused a rift between us to this day. To say we aren't close is an understatement. In fact, I'd bet money he's plotted my death over the years, and I'd be lying if I didn't admit I'd also done the same.

As Dimitri and Talon enter the room, they are followed by the rest of the council, our sisters Adrestia, Verena, and Duvessa. The femme fatale as some like to call them. All three hold the power to peer through space and time like my mother, but each also brings a separate gift to the table. Adrestia can teleport. Verena can control nature. Duvessa can conjure objects and manipulate minds. And all three can shapeshift into lithe black panthers feared worldwide.

"How many have died in the last ninety days?" my mother asks as they approach.

"Seventy-five thousand, Your Highness," Dimitri informs her, though I could have told her that.

"And how many have been changed?"

"Thirty-eight thousand are now members of our militia, Your Majesty," Adrestia confirms, though I thought the numbers were slightly higher when we left France.

As part of the trade for helping King Louis, we'd kill the peasants who were refusing to conform to his reign in exchange for changing the ones who we saw fit to enter our military. The death dealers.

"Any high rank that I should be made aware of?"

"Only three," Dimitri says. "One Lord and two Ladies."

"What of Lord Laurent and Lord Martin," my mother asks, "Would they make a welcome addition to our family?"

My hands grip the ornate wood on the arm rests of my throne until my knuckles turn white. The thought of either becoming one of us causes a violent anger to simmer in my normally cool veins.

Neither is worthy.

In fact, I would rather push a stake through my heart than have to spend an eternity with either of those two fools. Viktor glances my way and notices my distress. Sensing his condescending glare, I shoot him a warning one of my own, and inflict terror into his mind that forces him to remain silent. My mother senses our brotherly fight, reaches out without glancing my way and rests her hand on top of my own.

"Secrets," she whispers, as her saddened stare turns and finds mine, "don't remain secrets long if you can't control your emotions, Angel."

Her pet name for me since I was a child is soothing when it shouldn't be. Maybe Viktor is right. She does think too highly of me.

"How much longer will King Louis require our services?" she asks, taking her hand away and focusing back on the council.

"The lower class has no desire to listen," I sigh, chiming in for the first time. "Since arriving in France, I have studied them closely. Trust me when I say they will not be stopped."

"Then King Louis will lose," my mother says.

"He's already lost," I add. "Prolonging the inevitable is buying him more time to ruin the country. It would be better for France if this whole revolution ended quickly."

"And how do you propose we enforce that?" my brother, Viktor, huffs sarcastically.

"We kill him," I suggest with ease. Raising my right leg, I rest my ankle on my left knee and lean back into my throne. "The sooner the better. That way, France can finally build the country they deserve."

"That's not the deal we struck with the King," my brother lashes out. "If we even try to..."

My mother holds up her hand, silencing her younger son. His jaw ticks. His eyes widen in anger. But he stops talking and bitterly looks away.

"What do Lord Martin and Lord Laurent have to say about what is happening in their country?"

My brow furrows because I don't know why she is concerned in the slightest about the two men that I would like nothing more than to be granted the power to kill. Dismember. Send to an eternal death for what they have demanded of Esmerelda. My mother looks my way and raises another condescending brow. She's read my mind, and knowing so, I blush slightly and try better to control my thoughts.

"Lord Martin wishes to be one of us," Dimitri scoffs.

I shake my head with disgust. I will fight to my death before I ever see that happen. Even go against my mother. Not for Esme, I try to tell myself, though my heart knows I'm lying, but for the safety of the coven. My mother glances my way and gives me a look that hints she knows something I don't. Irritated. Anxious. Annoyed that we are even having this conversation, I start to speak when Duvessa sighs, "Lord Laurent wants nothing to do with our ways."

"Smart man," my mother mumbles under her breath.

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