Page 97 of Soulbound
Morgana retreated up the stairs, one step at a time.
"You might recall him," Sebastian's voice sounded dark as midnight as he took the first step. "He's the assassin, remember?"
Cleo staggered to her feet, holding on to the wall. "Don't do this."
"Get the Blade out of here," he told her.
"Not without you."
"And what is your assassin brother going to do when all of this is over?" Morgana chided. "Do you think he's not going to look at you and see a threat? An educated one?"
The arrow struck its mark. Cleo sensed his confidence falter through the bond. "Do you think you have a place with your father if he ever gets that creature out of himself? One big happy family... is that what you see? You'd like that, wouldn't you? You always wanted a brother or sister."
His fists clenched. "You know nothing about what I wanted."
"No?" Morgana reached the top of the stairs, and glanced behind her, as if to search for someone to help her. "What about Lord Rathbourne? Do you think he looks at you and sees anything more than the man who helped kidnap his daughter? And his wife, what does she think of you?"
Cleo frowned. Something about the woman's manner struck her as odd. Morgana had never fled before. "Sebastian, don't listen to her. She's trying to poison your thoughts."
He tilted his head as if he were half listening to her, but she could feel him locking himself down inside, so even she couldn't reach him. "I know."
Morgana locked eyes with Cleo and smiled. "Ah, the sweet young bride. Always your champion, my dear boy. How long do you think she's going to look at you with those loving eyes? How long before her hope starts to fade?"
"That's enough," he said.
"Have you fucked her yet?"
The walls began to shake.
"If not, then I'm sure the demon could take care of her virginity for you. It's got an insatiable appetite these days."
"I'm sure you would know that," he spat. "It's the only way my father would ever touch you again."
For the first time, something real flickered in Morgana's eyes.
"No," Cleo whispered to him, "You're not your mother. Don't stoop to her level."
His fists clenched, lightning flickering across his wards. "Do you remember when you said you would destroy everything I ever loved?"
A shard of glass from the chandelier dropped from the ceiling, shattering on the marble below. Morgana didn't look at it, but she faced him at the top of the balcony, her calculating eyes gauging the damage she'd done. "I remember. I remember everything. Did you know Julia Camden is working for me? The bitch is practically frothing at the mouth to get her hands upon you again."
A red mage globe formed in his palm. He threw it toward his mother, but Morgana flicked it aside and it exploded as it hit the wall, sending chunks of plaster flying.
Another formed. And then Morgana brought her own to life. Seven red globes circled her head as she twisted her wrist, and she smirked at her son. "Let's do this then. Show me what you've learned."
"Sebastian!" She tried to reach him, but the link between them was locked down tight now, and only he had the power to open it.
Hand fisted around the Blade, Cleo scurried up the stairs after him. Another hammer-strike of Vision sent her swaying into the wall—a white painted hexagram splashed over timber floorboards, a timber hall runner dragged over it.
A trap.
Then the image was superimposed over the sight of Sebastian finally reaching the top of the staircase. Morgana backed away slowly, lashing out at him with crackling blows, trying to find any weakness in his wards.
Sebastian brushed away each attack almost contemptuously, advancing with sure and steady strides, and Cleo suddenly realized Morgana was not bringing all her power to bear upon him. Just enough to distract him as she took stealthy steps back. Panic flickered over the woman's heart-shaped face, but her eyes gleamed hot and steady.
"Is that all you've got?" he asked in that dangerously soft voice.
Premonition dug into Cleo's skin like knives as he started to take another step, and she could almost see her prediction colliding with real time, the spelled star hovering beneath his unsuspecting foot—
