Page 122 of Hexbound
Sometimes it chilled her to the core how pragmatically he could view this. A bad feeling assailed her. Two to go, if one considered both Morgana and his other brother, Sebastian. As he'd said, this was not over yet.
"Promise me you won't do anything that will destroy your relationship with Drake," she whispered.
He looked at her. "Ver—"
"Promise me."
Bishop's lips thinned. "He's a threat to all of us. I won't sacrifice you. Nor my father. Nor any of the rest of our little group, out of hope that this brother has one small ounce of humanity left inside him."
"Not everything or everyone in the world has to be a threat," she replied. "All you see are shadows sometimes. What if there's a chance that he could be saved?"
"You don't believe that."
She looked toward Drake, who was pulling the steel masks off the red-robed sorcerers, wincing as he saw faces he obviously recognized. "He does."
That gave Bishop enough doubt to make him scowl a little. "My father sees what he wants to see."
"He thought he was getting through to Sebastian."
"Maybe he was wrong." Bishop shook her off him.
She caught his wrist. "This would destroy your father. You know it." And worse, it would destroy Bishop's relationshipwithhis father, which she knew was vitally important to him, even if Bishop didn't speak of it. "Promise me."
He took a long time to answer. "I promise... that I won't act precipitously, Ver. But if push comes to shove, I won't stand aside and let Sebastian destroy the people I love."
He stalked away, pausing to collect Eleanor and help her steady herself. If not for the rare gentleness he showed, like now, she'd sometimes wonder if he truly had a heart.
But then he had just saidthe people I love, and that included her.
Maybe there was a darkness inside him that would never go away, but maybe there was light there too?
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Chapter 29
TORCHES FLICKERED AROUND the grotto, highlighting over two hundred red-robed shapes. Drake threw back the hood on his cloak, taking a torch from the wall as he walked to the channel of oil that lined the circular grotto. A shiver ran down Bishop's spine. This was it. He couldn't help feeling like disaster hovered over them.
"And so it is"—Drake lit the oil with his torch and it flared to life—"that my time is done and I pass the flame to another."
Flame ran along the narrow channel, making a hissing noise. The channel formed a circle in the heart of the grotto, with a bridge at either end leading to the stone slate circle in the center. A collective whisper echoed through the chamber.
Agatha stepped forward, wearing the white robe of one of the Triad Council who ruled beneath Drake. "All those who stand as candidates for the position of Prime, step forward and take a torch."
Three stepped forward: Madrigal Brown and two others that Bishop recognized, but whose names he couldn't quite recall. At his side, Lucien gave his wife a nudge and with a very faint sigh, Ianthe slid her hood back from her raven-dark hair and stepped forward as well.
Madrigal's gaze settled on her like a snake's. She knew who the competition was.
"Madrigal'sSicarii," Bishop whispered under his breath, knowing that Ianthe would hear him. "She has the gift of Foresight and has never lost a battle before. She'll see any move you make three seconds before you make it."
Ianthe tilted her head toward him, but gave no other sign that she heard him.
The ceremony drew one of the strange sorcerers into the circle to face Madrigal.
Agatha withdrew a handkerchief from her sleeve and held it aloft. "Yield," she called, her voice ringing through the room. "Or die. If you step outside the circle, then you are effectively yielding. The winner moves through to the next round, where they will face their final opponent." Glancing at Lord Hamersley, another Councilor, she arched a brow. "If you'll do the honors of warding the ring?"
He bowed his head and wove a faintly glimmering ward around the ring that would contain all sorcery within it.
Madrigal and her opponent stepped inside and faced each other, watching the handkerchief in Agatha's hand. Agatha dropped it and instantly the man launched a scathing attack on Madrigal, who merely warded herself and let the sparks shoot off her bubble-like ward.
