Page 28 of Spellbound
“All I’m saying is you can’t run away from what happened. I know how it feels to find someone dead.”
“He wasn’t my sibling though. No offense.”
“It doesn’t matter. It leaves a mark. You’re telling me you’ve not had one nightmare since?”
I chewed the inside of my cheek. My sleep had since been dreamless. Usually I dreamed vividly, in a sea of colors, but since the incident, everything had been gray and numb. “No.”
He arched an eyebrow, disbelief in his stare. “Right.”
“Are you ready to train, or are we going to stand around and chat all day?”
He gestured toward the large stone table, where a ruby ring sat. It was the piece I’d had the most trouble with since I’d arrived. “This is the blood ring. The curse inside of it causes temporary insanity. Its effects are watered down on those of us with dark magic, but it still will make you question your sanity. Your job is to, well, not go insane.”
“I thought we were transferring curses to other objects.”
“Nope, we have to tame some before we can keep it contained in an object, pushing the curse to see us as its master, in a way.”
“Do I just put it on?”
“Yes, but please be careful.” I flexed my fingers instinctively to touch him but decided against it. The ring brought back my darkest memories, and from what Viktor had told me, the curse would have a field day with him. “It will make you face your worst fears.”
He eyed the glossy red. “Ah.”
“Don’t worry, it can’t get out of here.” I gestured at the reinforced walls and closed steel door. “Nor can you, should you go mad.”
He smirked. “I’m sure you won’t hesitate in putting me down if I get out of line.”
“Not for a second.”
A glint of challenge crossed his gaze. “Let’s do this.” When he placed the ring on his finger, his eyes changed. His pupils took on the night as their blue dissolved into blackness. His expression turned blank, and his hands trembled.
“You must remember, it isn’t real. Fight through it. It’s an illusion,” I explained. The curse had been created by a rogue magician gone dark some hundred years ago, to especially torture gods and shapeshifters, although it also had a detrimental effect on witches. “Viktor?”
His bottom lip shook as he attempted to open his mouth, but no words left. After his doing so well at the previous tasks and ones he did alone with Edmund and Maddox, I assumed he’d pass this one with flying colors.
A scream erupted from his mouth. I leaped toward him and grabbed his wrist. The ring burned on contact, and something hot sizzled under his skin. I groaned, trying to pull the ring from his finger, but it was stuck.
He screamed again.
“Maddox!” I shouted, but it was doubtful he’d hear me from the study. He’d know what to do. “I’m trying,” I told Viktor, hoping he could hear me as I pulled at the ring. “Fight through it. Don’t let it win.” My eyes watered as tears fell down his cheeks. He begged against something I couldn’t see, and I pulled harder, letting it burn my fingers.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the ring slid from his finger and into my palm. The curse felt stronger than ever. It wanted more, coiling itself around me.
The memory of the night I was taken from my sister flitted into my mind. It engulfed me, and when usually I’d have the power to fight the curse, this illusion, the memory, pulled me in and kept me there, helpless. I was eleven again, and the clock chimed eight.
The woman was the first witch to be hung in over twenty years in the kingdom of Salvius, and she wouldn’t be the last.
The bitter cold winter swept through the town. Orange hues illuminated the windows of thatched cottages as fires were lit in an effort to stay warm against the iciness. The comforting woodsmoke smell lingered as my sister and I were swept through the streets in a growing crowd. Together, we hurried toward the town square where conversations buzzed, alight with words of “execution” and “hanging.” Many of the townsfolk white-knuckled charms that were said to repel magic, which was useless considering the witch would have already been rendered magicless, but fear often lorded over logic.
I tightened my grip on my sister’s hand as we became lost somewhere in the center of the jeering townsfolk. The last of the sun’s rays faded from the buildings by the time we reached the freshly erected gallows. Oil lamps flickered on as they were lit by lighters, men who were paid to light and maintain the oil lamps on the wide roads. Gray buildings surrounded them, including the town hall, the lord’s mansion, and the apothecary.
“Will they hang her from her neck?” Fear sparkled in Mona’s blue eyes. “Like Miss Thompson said they used to do?”
“Shush, Mona, you’ll get us caught,” I whispered as the crowd dispersed, scattering through the benches and statues in the large, concrete area. All of them stared at the wooden structure with long boards and four steps leading up to it. Hanging between the large beams at the top was a single noose, made from thick rope. Beneath it, a lonely stool.
I pulled Mona behind a statue of a man with a horse. My breath fogged when I spoke. “Don’t do anything to draw attention to us. If we’re caught here, Miss Thompson will not allow us dinner for the next week.” My stomach ached at the memory of the last time I’d been forced into a short starvation, when I’d been caught in town without permission.
Mona nodded. “Okay.” She was two years younger than me and the only family I had left. Freckles dotted her petite nose and rosy cheeks. Her hair reminded me of autumn, when the leaves turned from red to brown, shining a beautiful auburn. My medium-brown hair, unlike Mona’s, remained frizzy no matter what I did.
