Page 85 of A Bolt of Magic

Someone must have sent word ahead because my mother is waiting.

She stands in the grand doorway, framed by the carved stone archway that bears our family crest. For a moment, I’m struck speechless by how much she’s changed. There are silver threads through her dark hair and fine lines around her eyes. Were they there before? I can’t say for sure. She seems smaller somehow but still impeccably dressed in her finest robes of deep purple silk embroidered with silver runes, every inch the High Mystic of our coven.

For a moment, I’m not sure whether to address her as such or as my mother. I hate how clumsy she makes me feel.

“McColl.” Her voice carries across the courtyard, pitched perfectly to reach every ear in the crowd that has followed us. “My daughter. You’ve come home at last. How we’ve missed you.”

She descends the stone steps with measured grace, her arms outstretched in a gesture of welcome that looks genuine to anyone watching. But I know her too well. I can see the calculation in her dark eyes, the way her gaze keeps flicking to Kian even as she approaches me.

“Mother,” I say simply.

“My darling girl,” she murmurs, just loud enough for the crowd to hear. “I’ve missed you so much.” There was a time I would have lapped up every scrap of affection she showed me, like a starving dog thrown a bone. Not anymore. I find that I am left as cold.

“You look well,” she says, and I can hear the question in it.

“Thank you, Mother.” I keep my voice carefully neutral. “I missed Regana.”

Her gaze shifts to Kian, taking in his pointed ears, his carefully controlled posture, the way he stands just close enough to me that our magical connection remains as strong as possible.For a moment, something dangerous flickers in her eyes. She schools her emotions in the next instant so that I almost question seeing her malice in the first place.

“Well,” she says, her voice taking on a honeyed quality that sets my teeth on edge. “You must be tired from your journey. Come inside. We have much to discuss.”

She turns to address Lydia and the other Children of the Veil. “Thank you for escorting my daughter home safely. You may return to your duties now. This is a family matter.”

Lydia’s face twists with obvious disappointment. “High Mystic, surely you want us to—”

“I said you may go.” My mother’s voice carries the crack of authority, and Lydia has no choice but to bow stiffly and withdraw with her warriors.

The crowd begins to disperse as well, though I can see many of them lingering at the edge of the courtyard, clearly hoping to catch some hint of what’s about to unfold.

My mother turns back to us, her smile as perfectly pleasant as it is terrifying. “Come, my dear. Bring your…friend. I’m sure you have quite a story to tell. Hmmmmm…?”

She doesn’t acknowledge Kian directly, doesn’t even look at him as she speaks, and yet I can feel her attention on him like a blade held to his throat.

We follow her up the stone steps and through the heavy oak doors into the grand foyer of my childhood home. The interior is exactly as I remember it: all dark wood and magical artifacts displayed in glass cases, as well as portraits of my ancestors gazing down from the walls with painted eyes that seem to follow your movement. Was it always this depressing? This dark and unwelcoming?

“Tea?” my mother asks, leading us toward the sitting room. “You must be parched after such a long journey. You alwaysenjoyed cocoa with a spoon or two of honey. The sweeter, the better.”

When I was ten, perhaps.

“No, thank you,” I say quickly.

She looks at Kian, still not actually speaking to him.

“I’m fine, as well,” Kian adds, his voice carefully polite.

My mother nods as if she expected as much. “Of course. Well then, shall we sit? I’m sure you’re eager to…reconnect. I certainly am.” By reconnect, she means to drill me.

The living room is one of the more intimate spaces in the house, though intimate is a relative term when it comes to my mother. High-backed chairs upholstered in deep green velvet are arranged around a stone fireplace, and magical lights dance in crystal sconces along the walls. She takes her usual seat, the one that positions her with her back to the fire so that her face remains in shadow while her guests are fully illuminated.

I sit in the chair across from her, hyperaware of Kian taking the seat beside me. My shield remains firmly in place around us, and I can feel my mother’s eyes tracking its quick shimmer as we sit, before moving back to lock with mine.

“Well,” she says, folding her hands in her lap with practiced elegance. “Aren’t you going to introduce me to your companion?”

Here we go.

The moment of truth has arrived. At least we can stop dancing around each other now. I take a breath and hope my voice remains steady. “Mother, this is Kian. Kian, my mother, Lilith Ravencrest, High Mystic of the Regana Coven.”

“An honor to meet you, High Mystic.” Kian inclines his head respectfully. “Thank you for welcoming me into your home.”

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