Page 10 of Crowned By the Shadow
“How fascinating,” Fenvalur said, composing himself as he turned back to us. His clinical detachment returned, making my skin crawl. “I had not expected your arrival so soon, Senara. Though I must admit, it saves me the trouble of retrieving you.”
Thorn stepped protectively in front of me, his hand moving to the concealed knife at his waist. “We’re here for the Mirror, nothing more.”
Fenvalur’s eyebrow arched. “Are you? How disappointing.” His gaze shifted to me. “Surely you have questions, Senara. About your past. Your parents.” He gestured to the images still floating around us. “I have answers.”
My throat tightened. “How do you have these? I was abandoned as an infant.” I knew Eldric had shown me more of my origin than I had known before, but I wasn’t about to admit that to anyone but Thorn.
“Were you?” Fenvalur smiled, the expression never reaching his eyes. “Or is that simply what you were led to believe?”
The masked prisoner made a strangled sound, drawing my attention. Despite the pain clear in his hunched posture, he lifted his head again, staring directly at me through those narrow slits.
“Ask him,” the prisoner rasped. “Ask him what he did to your mother.”
Fenvalur’s face darkened. With a sharp gesture, he sent a pulse of magic through the chains that knocked the prisoner unconscious.
“Ignore him,” Fenvalur said dismissively. “Subject Five’s mind fractured long ago. His ravings are meaningless.”
But the prisoner’s words had struck something deep within me. They created a craving for knowledge. I had to know what he meant. Plus, I had to know how he knew my mother. Was this the fae that had called me daughter?
“Who is he?” I demanded, pointing at the slumped figure. “And what does he have to do with me?”
Fenvalur’s lips curved into that smile I remembered all too well, the one that preceded his most painful experiments. My skin crawled as he took a step toward me.
“Subject Five is quite valuable to my research,” he said, voice smooth as silk. “As are you. Together, you’ve helped me uncoversecrets of ancestral memory and bloodline magic that no one else has ever documented.”
“That doesn’t answer my question,” I said, holding my ground despite the fear churning in my stomach.
Fenvalur sighed, as if explaining to a dimwitted child. “He is a conduit. A rare individual whose connection to the temporal streams allows access to ancestral memories. Your ancestral memories, to be specific.”
I glanced at the unconscious masked figure. Something about him tugged at me—a familiarity I couldn’t place.
“Why my memories?” I demanded. “What makes me so special to you?”
“Your Moon Mark, of course.” Fenvalur gestured to the Mirror behind him. “The Starforged Mirror reveals truths hidden by time. When I discovered its capabilities, I needed subjects with unique magical signatures to test its full potential.” His eyes gleamed with academic fervor. “Your mark isn’t just powerful, Senara. It’s ancient. Far older than you, and it’s been growing with each iteration.”
Thorn shifted beside me, tension radiating through our bond. “We’re taking the Mirror and leaving,” he said firmly.
Fenvalur laughed. “Are you? And how do you propose to do that?”
Before Thorn could answer, the masked prisoner stirred, lifting his head slightly. Though still weak from Fenvalur’s magic, he managed to rasp out words that chilled me to the bone.
“The Moon Mark means nothing by itself. You were meant to unite—” the prisoner whispered, his words cutting off as a hacking cough overtook him.
Fenvalur’s face contorted with rage. He raised his hand, magic crackling at his fingertips, ready to silence the prisoner again.
Without thinking, I lunged forward. “Don’t touch him!”
My mark flared to life, moonlight spilling from my skin in waves. The power surged through me, stronger than I’d ever felt it before, responding to my desperate need to protect this stranger who somehow knew my past.
The magic erupted from me like a tidal wave. My mark blazed so brightly that the room filled with silver-blue light, casting stark shadows against the domed walls. Fenvalur staggered backward, shielding his eyes from the intensity of my power.
“Impossible,” he gasped. “The mark shouldn’t respond this way unless?—”
The masked prisoner’s chains shattered as my magic washed over him. He slumped forward, catching himself on his hands, his silver mask gleaming in the light of my mark.
Thorn was at my side instantly, his hand on my shoulder, steadying me as the magic continued to pour from my skin. Through our bond, I felt his awe and concern mingling with my shock.
“Senara,” he whispered, “your mark is responding to him.”
