Page 170 of Brimstone
There was no pretense to her. No denial or contrition.
I met her gaze and held it.
“Iseabail, come and join us.” Te Léna was always warm, even when the tension in the room was cold as ice. “Fisher was just explaining what happened at Ammontraíeth.”
“She knows all about what happened at Ammontraíeth, don’t you, Iseabail?” I said.
The witch pressed her hands to her skirts, wiping her palms against the material—they were probably slick with sweat, as they damn well should have been. “I do,” she answered in a clear voice. “And I’m sure you want me to be sorry for it, Kingfisher, but I’m not. I can’t be.”
“You put my mate in danger,” I growled.
On my left, Saeris shifted, her attention moving from the red-haired witch to me. She was quicker than most, had already put two and two together, but still she wasn’t angry at the female standing at the foot of the table. Placing her hand on top of mine, she let out an exhausted sigh. “I wasn’t hurt. That was clearly never their intention.”
Carrion propped his elbow on the table, rested his chin in hand, and said, “What in the actualfuckare you all talking about?”
“They’re angry at me for what happened tonight,” Iseabail said, in a calm, even tone.
Te Léna had figured it out. Maynir, too. Both the healer and her husband traded uncomfortable looks. “You didn’t want to come back here and help us, did you?” Te Léna said. No one would have blamed Te Léna if she’d been furious over the witch’s deception, but it was worse than that. She was hurt. She had thought she’d made a friend.
Iseabail’s defiant expression collapsed in the face of the healer’s accusation, but she maintained her stiff-backed posture, chin held high regardless. “I’m sorry, Te Léna. I enjoyed spending time with you and learning from you, truly I did. I wanted to help you find Ren as well, but I needed a reason to stay here at Cahlish. I had to be close for the spell to work.”
“Ahh. I get it now,” Carrion said. “You’rethe one who cast the spell that killed the high bloods. You gave Tal those vials to cure the Blood Court!”
“I did what I had to do. Do you have any idea how long we’ve waited for an opportunity to get inside Ammontraíeth? Do you know how long—”
“You put my mate indanger,” I repeated.
She bit her bottom lip, looking down at her hands. There were long gashes at her wrists, angry, still dripping blood onto the dining room floor.
I closed my eyes, laughing humorlessly. “As soon as those high bloods were affected by the blood in that wine, they were freed from the Blood Court’s control, weren’t they?”
“Yes,” she said.
“Any of them could have attacked us.”
“Yes.”
“And it wasyourblood the thralls dripped into their glasses, wasn’t it?”
“Yes. Tal brought them to the river, and I marked them with sigils. When they cut themselves, I bled through their veins. A simple transference spell, really. My blood—”
“Your blood is a curse to all vampires. It kills them unless they take the antidote thatyourclan created.”
“Yes.”
Yes, she answered, again and again, without shame or regret. Shadows began to spill from me, flowing like smoke down the arms of my chair, rolling across the table toward the witch.
“Fisher,” Saeris said. “I wasn’t hurt. It’s all right. We can deal with this—”
“You lied to Tal,” I said.
Iseabail watched the shroud of shadows approaching with growing trepidation. The air hummed with her fear, but she nodded, acknowledging the truth. “I had to. If he’d known that the high bloods might be able to hurt you or Saeris, he would never have agreed to the plan. And I feel bad for lying to him. I do. I would accept whatever punishment he saw fit for my crimes if he’d chosen to be reborn, but—”
“Tal’s alive,” I snapped. “Youmight be okay with letting people you consider your friends die, but we are not the same.”
At this, Iseabail’s mouth fell open. She took a step toward the table, her hands forming warding signs to push back my smoke. “He’salive?”
“You can’t hold my magic back for long, Iseabail. This ismyhouse—”
