Page 72 of Dragon Compelled
“Thanks to your magic being caged. But no cages last forever.”
A ripple of unease runs through me as I remember the last time he was here when he offered to unbind my magic. “What does that mean?”
“I’ll admit, I thought you needed unbinding, but it seems your magic wants too badly to be used it did the work for me.”
“I haven’t used any magic,” I argue.
“Are you sure about that? Think. All of those books that came alive when you were near.”
“The books do that.”
“Not like they do for you.”
I frown, refusing to believe him even though his words are a voice to every doubt I’ve had and secret thought I’ve refused to give voice to over the years.
“Your power is far too great to contain, no matter how unending the magic that leashed it,” he goes on, clearly enjoying picking apart everything I thought I knew about myself.
“I didn’t open any books,” I say stubbornly.
“No? How exactly did those princess castles bring themselves into this world? With no animation or consciousness of their own?”
I don’t answer. I know exactly what he means because I have a vivid memory of being eight years old and grounded for being found playing in a castle tower I’d found in the medieval section. Or thought I’d found. I’d told myself it was the book’s fault for letting it loose. But if what he’s suggesting is true...
It’s been me all along.
“I never did any of that intentionally,” I say, but the fire is gone from my voice.
He’s getting to me, and he knows it.
“Maybe not. And you certainly didn’t exert much at a time,” he snaps, clearly pissed at not being able to siphon more from me than he did. “Until the night you used enough of your power to call forth your precious dragon,” he says with a twisted grin. “Your potency that day was enough to finally offer me form again. And now, here I am. Powerful enough to claim this world for my own just like I should have done with Eldevain before. This time, you won’t stop me, either. This time, your power will feed me until I’m unstoppable with it.”
I falter, hesitating against the urge to unleash what I am against him. I'm terrified that he’ll only use my magic to feed himself and turn it back on me. I refuse to meet the same end as my own people—choked and drained by the darkness Constantine wields.
“Go on, little mage,” he taunts. “Use your magic against me. Unleash it so that I can drink my fill. Once I'm done with this world, I have plenty more at my fingertips to consume.”
The books.
I glance at them, realizing he’s surrounded by access to the very things that give him power. Then I remember how desperate he was for me to help him get free of this place. “You were stuck here all those years,” I say. “Unable to feed from a single one of these stories. That’s why you needed me. And then Oliver. To get you in and out.”
“Look at you finally catching on when it’s way too late to stop us,” Oliver drawls.
I glare at him. “You think you’re safe? The moment he’s done with you, he’ll dispose of you too.”
“Please,” Oliver snorts. “Don’t put me in the same category as you. Uncle Constantine cares about me.”
Anger flushes my skin. “You’re human, Oliver. From a different realm than him. How in the world could he possibly be your uncle?”
Oliver falters, and I realize he’s already thought about this, though he refuses to admit it. His expression re-hardens, and he says, “He cares about me. Right, uncle?”
He looks to Constantine, who smiles serenely. “Of course.”
Oliver smirks at me as if those two words were the most convincing argument ever. “Constantine’s going to make me a king.”
“Is that why you killed Tawny?” I spit back at him.
He shrugs. “War requires sacrifice.”
“Yes,” Constantine agrees in a voice that does not bode well for Oliver’s fate. “It does.”
