The Ravenous Dark, page 21
Ronan grunted in reply, pinching the top of his nose as his headache raged.
"Here." Valdora rummaged quickly through her bag and produced a small spherical container. She placed it in front of Ronan. "That will help detox the magic we performed tonight from your body. It should also provide some relief for your headache."
Ronan muttered thanks and downed the liquid. It tasted like a field of flowers and left him teary-eyed at the bitter notes it left on the back of his tongue. Valdora checked her nosebleed discreetly. Satisfied that it was through, she tucked away the used handkerchief and sat up straight.
"Before we review the magic absorbed by the crystals, I'd like to ask you a few questions. Ana, of course, informed me of the particulars regarding your situation when we agreed on the contract, but I need a clearer picture if I'm to help you successfully find the culprit behind the dark magic."
Ronan scowled. "I don't see why."
"There could be something larger at play," she told him seriously. "Without all the information, I could be chasing down leads that amount to nothing, wasting time you don't have."
His scowl deepened. "I need a drink," he grumbled.
"Very well," Valdora replied primly. She rose and fetched him a glass of bourbon. "Why did you venture into the Otherworld? What was your purpose there?" she asked when she was reseated.
Ronan answered, only after he had taken his first sip. Notes of tobacco and vanilla filled his mouth as the amber liquid went down. His blood warmed at the simple solace.
"Power.” Guilt assailed Ronan as he spoke the word without inflection. If his lust for power hadn’t been so great, maybe he wouldn’t have gone along with Jax to the Otherworld in the first place. Maybe he could have avoided this whole mess that put everyone he cared about in mortal danger. His throat tightened as a stark vision entered his mind: his household executed, Bailey slowly and painfully languishing away to nothing at all… his body hung from the rafters as justice for crimes he didn’t commit. “You felt the magic there, same as me, and that was from memory alone. It's suffocating in person."
Valdora's lips pursed as she nodded. "You said you couldn't enter the library. Why?"
Ronan shrugged and took another drink. "He possessed more magic than me; at least, that was our guess."
Valdora processed the words in silence as she arranged the four crystals from their time in his memories on the table. Ronan followed each movement with interest.
"Did Jax experience time the way that you did?" Ronan blinked. Then scowled.
"No." He bristled momentarily before sagging in his seat. "At least, not to the extent I did," he explained in a tired voice. "The longest amount of time he was ever in there for, or so he claimed, was a few days. But those were rare instances, and when they happened, I was only stuck in the vestibule for a few days too. Sometimes only hours."
"You don't know why the passage of time lengthened so much for you and not him?" Ronan shook his head and took another drink. "Did he know how long you waited?" When he didn't answer, Valdora averted her eyes. "Why did you keep going back when your solitude stretched into years?"
His grip on the glass tightened. He didn't know how to explain himself without sounding like a complete ass. Valdora asked the question again.
"It was addicting in a way. The power we gained was unpredictable and heady, but it was more than that. The real power we sought always felt just out of reach. So, we kept going back trying to reach it." Valdora's eyes met his, and an embarrassed flush filled his cheeks. "We only wanted the power to help make changes at court that would benefit the living. But we also needed enough to stand a chance against the vampyrés who would oppose us." He sank back against his chair. "I tried to back out of going the past few times, but Jax can be incredibly persuasive."
A blush crawled onto Valdora's face. "Yes, I'm aware of his charm." She cleared her throat. "If you wanted to stop going, why didn't Jax go alone?"
"He couldn't."
Ronan's gaze dropped to the crystal ball, no longer filled with the candle's smoke. His reflection was prominent—too prominent—for he could see the dark bags hugging his eyes.
"The mirror requires a guide. Jax struck gold with me as his best friend since I'm a raven shifter." A wry smile tugged at his lips, full of bitterness. "Ravens are historically known as psychopomps."
Valdora's eyebrows knocked together as she slowly cleared the table of her other supplies, except the used crystals and her crystal ball. "And for their dealings in shadows," she commented lightly. Ronan tipped his chin in acknowledgment. "Jax knows you're just one of many at the court, right? Why not enlist one of your brothers or sisters?" The glare Ronan shot her had her holding up her hands.
"No raven shifter that passes through this court will ever be his guide."
Valdora's mouth opened and closed before she tilted her head in understanding. "Okay, then," she breathed and pasted a wobbly smile onto her lips.
"Any more questions?"
Valdora's eyes sparkled with interest. "How have your attempts been at controlling your shadow magic?"
Ronan lifted his hand and concentrated on the pervasive presence poised within him. Heeding his call, shadows rose from his shoulder to his fingers until it was completely shrouded in darkness.
"Well," he said.
Valdora reached out, her hand combing the air near his hand but never quite coming into contact with the shadows. She wet her lips as she pulled back.
He let his shadow visage collapse as he curled his hand into a fist. "I can summon it to cover my body and use it to pass through a separate plane of existence, but only for about an hour or so. It's like something is holding me back from retaining full control." Ronan frowned. "My guess is the dark magic here at court is blocking me somehow, since it has a hold on me."
She hummed thoughtfully. "What's this separate plane you speak of like?"
Ronan's eyes went distant as he described the plane. "Everything there is shrouded in shadows, and fog, and mist. It's difficult to traverse at times. Sometimes, I fear I'll lose my way and be consumed."
"By what?" Valdora's breathless question couldn't tear him from his daze.
"The shadows. They're starved there. When I pass through the plane, I know they're tasting me, testing my strength and willpower. If I was a weaker man, I don't think I could survive it."
"Why use it at all? Why take the risk?"
The question drew Ronan back to reality. He cleared his throat awkwardly. "It's been beneficial in my observations of the court."
Valdora's eyebrows rose. "So, it's good for spying?" He nodded. "Interesting," she muttered. "And despite your aptitude with the shadows, the dark magic supersedes your control? Holds it back, by your assumption?" His answering nod was far more somber than the last.
Valdora directed Ronan's attention to the four crystals lying on the table. They ranged in color from ashy gray to gleaming midnight.
"I primed these crystals earlier to measure a selection of magics and such that we might encounter in the Otherworld. The shades they turned are indicative of what magic was found." Valdora pointed to the gray crystal. "I took this sample from the runes. It's white magic, meant for healing."
Ronan's eyes widened. "Which is why whenever we entered the temple, we were healed."
"Exactly." She pointed to the next crystal, this one the color of his brothers' and sisters' feathers. "I took this sample from the air." She paused. "It's dark magic, Ronan."
He gulped, body seizing slowly at the sight. "Is it the same as—"
Valdora shook her head and sighed. "I won't know, unless I have a sample of the dark magic plaguing you here." Her face scrunched into a scowl. "It will be challenging to collect it. The Delacroix have been vigilant about the attacks and burn the bodies of the deceased, possessed and all, almost immediately. They fear it may spread, though they have no proof since they won't allow any sorcerer to examine the bodies."
"I'll see what I can do to collect a sample," Ronan offered, thoughts racing a mile a minute as hope filled him. "If I can't, I'll make it a top priority of my ravens." His hungry gaze darted to the last two crystals. "What are they?"
The crystals were barely discernible from one another. The crystal on the farthest end read darker by its lustrous gleam. Valdora pointed to the ebony one before it. "Godly magic was taken from the doors of the library."
Ronan's breath whooshed out of him, and he finished his bourbon to cover his reaction. "I suppose that makes sense," he said with a wince as the alcohol coated his mouth and throat. "It was Jax's patron that showed him the way to the Otherworld. Some amount of Godly magic should be expected, shouldn't it?"
"Indeed," she said as her eyes narrowed. "Who is his patron?"
Ronan shifted uncomfortably in his seat. To share such personal information about a sorcerer was bad form. He might not be on the best terms with Jax at the moment, but this skirted a line he was reluctant to cross.
Then again, he was surprised more courtiers hadn't deduced Jax's patron. The biggest giveaway was hidden in plain sight—his walking cane. Its handle, a jackal's head with ruby eyes, was his patron's trademark. But the court merely saw the cane as an extension of Jax's eccentric nature.
"I don't—"
"I've already taken a blood oath for my silence on this whole matter, Ronan. If you require another from me to secure this information, I'll do it."
The room fell silent as Ronan contemplated her offer. A blood oath was the strongest vow a supernatural could make, outside that of a soulmark. Heat crawled up his neck as he swiftly averted his gaze, trying to purge the rogue thought from his mind.
"The more I know, the more I can—"
"It's Anubis." Valdora's eyes widened, and then her forehead furrowed.
"That doesn't feel…right." The words fell from her tongue slowly. Her face screwed up even more as she settled back into her seat, the last and darkest midnight crystal seemingly forgotten. Ronan watched her mouth twist this way and that as she mulled over his revelation.
"Why doesn't it feel right?"
Her pale cheeks flared red. "I—I don't know, but my intuition is telling me that place was not part of Anubis's domain." If possible, her frown turned more severe. "You're positive Anubis showed him the way to the Otherworld?"
Ronan nodded, folding his arms. "It was revealed to him in a dream. He knew to procure the Mirror of Ways to reach the Otherworld, where he was told unimaginable power awaited him." Valdora's shoulders hunched forward as she wrapped her arms around her middle. Apprehension made lunch out of his nerves. "If it wasn't Anubis who showed him, then who? And how?"
"I don't know," she told him somberly, "but I'm inclined to trust my intuition." Valdora straightened her spine, rolling back her shoulders and uncrossing her arms. "Many Gods claim to control or have an association with death in some respect. Perhaps the Otherworld is ruled by one of them? But not Anubis."
Ronan's pulse rang in his ears, even as he adopted a stoic expression and nodded his head. "I see," he rumbled.
"Shall we continue?" Ronan delivered another tight nod, his jaw clenching. Valdora pointed at the midnight crystal and cleared her throat. "This one is… different."
"Different, how?"
Valdora's throat bobbed. "This crystal's sample is from the harrow's blood. It didn't test positive for magic, but it did for…"
Silence stretched taut between them. "For what?" Ronan snapped.
"Poison." The color drained from Ronan's face. "The harrow's blood is toxic. If you ingested any—"
"We didn't, though."
Valdora took a calming breath. "You sustained injuries from them. Bites? Perhaps, scratches or other cuts?"
His throat bobbed with uncertainty as he jerked a nod in assent. "But the temple. It healed us."
"The temple kept you alive," she countered. Her voice was full of sympathy. "If it healed you, I don't believe you would have trouble controlling your magic fully. Nor be beholden to the dark magic here at court. As it is, I think there's a fair chance that the dark magic in the air and harrow hounds poison is connected somehow. But that's just a theory—Ronan? Ronan, are you all right?"
The world contracted around him. His vision narrowed. His breath vanished.
If he was poisoned, what did that mean for the future of his household and family? What did that mean for him and Bailey? Gods, what about Jax?
Guilt roiled beneath his skin as a sickening worry wrapped around him.
"What about Jax?"
"What about him?" she asked, cocking her head.
"Is he still…?"
"Poisoned?" Ronan nodded dully. "If my theory is correct, then yes. I'll know for sure with a blood sample."
"How do I get rid of it? There must be an antidote."
The candles encircling them flared higher. Valdora sighed. "There could be, but I would need a large sample of blood from the harrow hounds. Otherwise, I can't hope to make an antidote."
Ronan gestured to the midnight crystal. "Can't you use that?"
"I'm afraid not. It's barely corporeal, contained even as it is like this. However, if you're willing, you could go back to the Otherworld and secure a sample for me."
He froze.
Return when he told Jax he wouldn't?
Risk being stuck in that hell?
A tremor ran through him. "I can't."
Valdora's shoulders sagged, but she nodded her head in understanding. "Even with a large enough sample, there's no guarantee I could make an antidote."
Ronan sank into a deep slouch. "So, what do I do? Wait around for it to kill me?"
Valdora's hand slid across the table, her palm open and expectant. Ronan placed his hand in hers. Comforting warmth, akin to a young summer sun, embraced his hand and soothed the caustic panic growing inside him.
"I don't think it's that dire," she admitted cautiously. Ronan wore his confusion openly. "You've survived this long without the temple's healing powers aiding you. I think it's fair to assume that the longer you stay away from the Otherworld and those harrow hounds, your bodies will naturally detox the poison after a time."
Ronan withdrew his hand to rest his face in it momentarily. "Good," he breathed. "That's good."
"That's very good, Ronan," Valdora confirmed warmly. "It means we can focus on finding the dark magic infecting the vampyrés in earnest. Once we have that, I'll test it against my sample."
"Finding the culprit behind the dark magic might prove to be easier," Ronan said.
Her mouth tightened a fraction. "Finding the culprit will be pointless if the dark magics aren't the same."
"They are," Ronan said darkly.
Valdora stayed silent a moment. "I believe so too, but let's not go on a witch hunt yet. We don't know what larger games might be at play, and if your Otherworld is involved somehow, we're treading into dangerous waters. Waters that involve Gods with untold reach and power."
"Understood."
Valdora offered a tentative smile. "Keep doing what you're doing and try to get me a sample of one of the infected before their bodies are disposed of. We'll plan our next move after that, all right?"
"Thank you. For everything."
Valdora's smile brightened. "Thank you for taking a chance on me."
"Do you need help cleaning?"
She shook her head and waved him off, already leaning to the side where one of the many black candles sat on the floor. Ronan's returning smile faltered as she extinguished the candle with a quick breath.
Apprehension sunk its claws into him. Ronan stiffened.
"Valdora?"
"Hmm?" The sorceress turned blue eyes his way. Sensing his change, she straightened. "What is it?"
He held up his hand for her to see the swirl of shadows circling his fingertips and coasting down his wrist and forearm. Ronan's jaw was clenched, as he glared at the shadow's appearance.
"It's happening. The dark magic is summoning me," he said tightly. "Your candles must have been blocking it—argh!"
Valdora jumped to her feet and snatched his unshadowed wrist.
"Be strong, Ronan, and whatever you do, don't give in to whatever the darkness demands."
"What?" he gasped, his wrist dematerializing from her grip as the shadows continued to devour him. Valdora rocked into the table from the sudden lack of contact. "Why?" he demanded.
Her eyes were wide as saucers watching the darkness cloak him. The tail of the shadows was already edging toward the door of the study.
The remaining black candles blew out in an unnatural gust.
"Because we don't know if the dark magic and poison are connected! If they are—" his eyes widened before he was consumed completely by shadows and darkness. Valdora's last words were lost to him.
XIII
No matter how much the fast-paced action of the court kept Bailey on her toes, she was well aware on a nightly basis that she wasn't cut out for this kind of life long-term. The constant glitz and glam. The never-ending game of political chess. It wasn't her scene.
As it happened, neither was the opera, but she was there regardless.
Bailey staved off the temptation to cross her arms and pout like a child.
The only reason she allowed herself to be dragged to the evening's outing—the premiere of the opera Falstaff—was because she was under the impression Ronan would be there. Her source was wrong. Bailey slid forward in her seat and cast a pointed glare at Jakob three seats over. His attention was steadfastly elsewhere.
Bailey grumbled under her breath. She’d undergone over an hour's worth of primping by Irina's hand in hopes of striking Ronan speechless. But he hadn't come.
Her heart clenched painfully.
Bailey hated his silent treatment, but she still held out hope they’d make amends soon. If only for the sake of their combined sanity. Three nights without contact, and she was growing entirely too restless for her liking.
However, Bailey was pragmatic enough to attribute some of that restlessness to her tragic encounter with Luka Krovopuskov and the shadowmancer. And fighting with River.
They were yet to make up, and because the universe had it out for her, naturally, they were seated next to each other. Bailey slumped in her seat, giving into her earlier temptation and folding her arms over her chest with a small pout. The skirts of her velvet gown bunched awkwardly at her less-than-pristine posture.
"Here." Valdora rummaged quickly through her bag and produced a small spherical container. She placed it in front of Ronan. "That will help detox the magic we performed tonight from your body. It should also provide some relief for your headache."
Ronan muttered thanks and downed the liquid. It tasted like a field of flowers and left him teary-eyed at the bitter notes it left on the back of his tongue. Valdora checked her nosebleed discreetly. Satisfied that it was through, she tucked away the used handkerchief and sat up straight.
"Before we review the magic absorbed by the crystals, I'd like to ask you a few questions. Ana, of course, informed me of the particulars regarding your situation when we agreed on the contract, but I need a clearer picture if I'm to help you successfully find the culprit behind the dark magic."
Ronan scowled. "I don't see why."
"There could be something larger at play," she told him seriously. "Without all the information, I could be chasing down leads that amount to nothing, wasting time you don't have."
His scowl deepened. "I need a drink," he grumbled.
"Very well," Valdora replied primly. She rose and fetched him a glass of bourbon. "Why did you venture into the Otherworld? What was your purpose there?" she asked when she was reseated.
Ronan answered, only after he had taken his first sip. Notes of tobacco and vanilla filled his mouth as the amber liquid went down. His blood warmed at the simple solace.
"Power.” Guilt assailed Ronan as he spoke the word without inflection. If his lust for power hadn’t been so great, maybe he wouldn’t have gone along with Jax to the Otherworld in the first place. Maybe he could have avoided this whole mess that put everyone he cared about in mortal danger. His throat tightened as a stark vision entered his mind: his household executed, Bailey slowly and painfully languishing away to nothing at all… his body hung from the rafters as justice for crimes he didn’t commit. “You felt the magic there, same as me, and that was from memory alone. It's suffocating in person."
Valdora's lips pursed as she nodded. "You said you couldn't enter the library. Why?"
Ronan shrugged and took another drink. "He possessed more magic than me; at least, that was our guess."
Valdora processed the words in silence as she arranged the four crystals from their time in his memories on the table. Ronan followed each movement with interest.
"Did Jax experience time the way that you did?" Ronan blinked. Then scowled.
"No." He bristled momentarily before sagging in his seat. "At least, not to the extent I did," he explained in a tired voice. "The longest amount of time he was ever in there for, or so he claimed, was a few days. But those were rare instances, and when they happened, I was only stuck in the vestibule for a few days too. Sometimes only hours."
"You don't know why the passage of time lengthened so much for you and not him?" Ronan shook his head and took another drink. "Did he know how long you waited?" When he didn't answer, Valdora averted her eyes. "Why did you keep going back when your solitude stretched into years?"
His grip on the glass tightened. He didn't know how to explain himself without sounding like a complete ass. Valdora asked the question again.
"It was addicting in a way. The power we gained was unpredictable and heady, but it was more than that. The real power we sought always felt just out of reach. So, we kept going back trying to reach it." Valdora's eyes met his, and an embarrassed flush filled his cheeks. "We only wanted the power to help make changes at court that would benefit the living. But we also needed enough to stand a chance against the vampyrés who would oppose us." He sank back against his chair. "I tried to back out of going the past few times, but Jax can be incredibly persuasive."
A blush crawled onto Valdora's face. "Yes, I'm aware of his charm." She cleared her throat. "If you wanted to stop going, why didn't Jax go alone?"
"He couldn't."
Ronan's gaze dropped to the crystal ball, no longer filled with the candle's smoke. His reflection was prominent—too prominent—for he could see the dark bags hugging his eyes.
"The mirror requires a guide. Jax struck gold with me as his best friend since I'm a raven shifter." A wry smile tugged at his lips, full of bitterness. "Ravens are historically known as psychopomps."
Valdora's eyebrows knocked together as she slowly cleared the table of her other supplies, except the used crystals and her crystal ball. "And for their dealings in shadows," she commented lightly. Ronan tipped his chin in acknowledgment. "Jax knows you're just one of many at the court, right? Why not enlist one of your brothers or sisters?" The glare Ronan shot her had her holding up her hands.
"No raven shifter that passes through this court will ever be his guide."
Valdora's mouth opened and closed before she tilted her head in understanding. "Okay, then," she breathed and pasted a wobbly smile onto her lips.
"Any more questions?"
Valdora's eyes sparkled with interest. "How have your attempts been at controlling your shadow magic?"
Ronan lifted his hand and concentrated on the pervasive presence poised within him. Heeding his call, shadows rose from his shoulder to his fingers until it was completely shrouded in darkness.
"Well," he said.
Valdora reached out, her hand combing the air near his hand but never quite coming into contact with the shadows. She wet her lips as she pulled back.
He let his shadow visage collapse as he curled his hand into a fist. "I can summon it to cover my body and use it to pass through a separate plane of existence, but only for about an hour or so. It's like something is holding me back from retaining full control." Ronan frowned. "My guess is the dark magic here at court is blocking me somehow, since it has a hold on me."
She hummed thoughtfully. "What's this separate plane you speak of like?"
Ronan's eyes went distant as he described the plane. "Everything there is shrouded in shadows, and fog, and mist. It's difficult to traverse at times. Sometimes, I fear I'll lose my way and be consumed."
"By what?" Valdora's breathless question couldn't tear him from his daze.
"The shadows. They're starved there. When I pass through the plane, I know they're tasting me, testing my strength and willpower. If I was a weaker man, I don't think I could survive it."
"Why use it at all? Why take the risk?"
The question drew Ronan back to reality. He cleared his throat awkwardly. "It's been beneficial in my observations of the court."
Valdora's eyebrows rose. "So, it's good for spying?" He nodded. "Interesting," she muttered. "And despite your aptitude with the shadows, the dark magic supersedes your control? Holds it back, by your assumption?" His answering nod was far more somber than the last.
Valdora directed Ronan's attention to the four crystals lying on the table. They ranged in color from ashy gray to gleaming midnight.
"I primed these crystals earlier to measure a selection of magics and such that we might encounter in the Otherworld. The shades they turned are indicative of what magic was found." Valdora pointed to the gray crystal. "I took this sample from the runes. It's white magic, meant for healing."
Ronan's eyes widened. "Which is why whenever we entered the temple, we were healed."
"Exactly." She pointed to the next crystal, this one the color of his brothers' and sisters' feathers. "I took this sample from the air." She paused. "It's dark magic, Ronan."
He gulped, body seizing slowly at the sight. "Is it the same as—"
Valdora shook her head and sighed. "I won't know, unless I have a sample of the dark magic plaguing you here." Her face scrunched into a scowl. "It will be challenging to collect it. The Delacroix have been vigilant about the attacks and burn the bodies of the deceased, possessed and all, almost immediately. They fear it may spread, though they have no proof since they won't allow any sorcerer to examine the bodies."
"I'll see what I can do to collect a sample," Ronan offered, thoughts racing a mile a minute as hope filled him. "If I can't, I'll make it a top priority of my ravens." His hungry gaze darted to the last two crystals. "What are they?"
The crystals were barely discernible from one another. The crystal on the farthest end read darker by its lustrous gleam. Valdora pointed to the ebony one before it. "Godly magic was taken from the doors of the library."
Ronan's breath whooshed out of him, and he finished his bourbon to cover his reaction. "I suppose that makes sense," he said with a wince as the alcohol coated his mouth and throat. "It was Jax's patron that showed him the way to the Otherworld. Some amount of Godly magic should be expected, shouldn't it?"
"Indeed," she said as her eyes narrowed. "Who is his patron?"
Ronan shifted uncomfortably in his seat. To share such personal information about a sorcerer was bad form. He might not be on the best terms with Jax at the moment, but this skirted a line he was reluctant to cross.
Then again, he was surprised more courtiers hadn't deduced Jax's patron. The biggest giveaway was hidden in plain sight—his walking cane. Its handle, a jackal's head with ruby eyes, was his patron's trademark. But the court merely saw the cane as an extension of Jax's eccentric nature.
"I don't—"
"I've already taken a blood oath for my silence on this whole matter, Ronan. If you require another from me to secure this information, I'll do it."
The room fell silent as Ronan contemplated her offer. A blood oath was the strongest vow a supernatural could make, outside that of a soulmark. Heat crawled up his neck as he swiftly averted his gaze, trying to purge the rogue thought from his mind.
"The more I know, the more I can—"
"It's Anubis." Valdora's eyes widened, and then her forehead furrowed.
"That doesn't feel…right." The words fell from her tongue slowly. Her face screwed up even more as she settled back into her seat, the last and darkest midnight crystal seemingly forgotten. Ronan watched her mouth twist this way and that as she mulled over his revelation.
"Why doesn't it feel right?"
Her pale cheeks flared red. "I—I don't know, but my intuition is telling me that place was not part of Anubis's domain." If possible, her frown turned more severe. "You're positive Anubis showed him the way to the Otherworld?"
Ronan nodded, folding his arms. "It was revealed to him in a dream. He knew to procure the Mirror of Ways to reach the Otherworld, where he was told unimaginable power awaited him." Valdora's shoulders hunched forward as she wrapped her arms around her middle. Apprehension made lunch out of his nerves. "If it wasn't Anubis who showed him, then who? And how?"
"I don't know," she told him somberly, "but I'm inclined to trust my intuition." Valdora straightened her spine, rolling back her shoulders and uncrossing her arms. "Many Gods claim to control or have an association with death in some respect. Perhaps the Otherworld is ruled by one of them? But not Anubis."
Ronan's pulse rang in his ears, even as he adopted a stoic expression and nodded his head. "I see," he rumbled.
"Shall we continue?" Ronan delivered another tight nod, his jaw clenching. Valdora pointed at the midnight crystal and cleared her throat. "This one is… different."
"Different, how?"
Valdora's throat bobbed. "This crystal's sample is from the harrow's blood. It didn't test positive for magic, but it did for…"
Silence stretched taut between them. "For what?" Ronan snapped.
"Poison." The color drained from Ronan's face. "The harrow's blood is toxic. If you ingested any—"
"We didn't, though."
Valdora took a calming breath. "You sustained injuries from them. Bites? Perhaps, scratches or other cuts?"
His throat bobbed with uncertainty as he jerked a nod in assent. "But the temple. It healed us."
"The temple kept you alive," she countered. Her voice was full of sympathy. "If it healed you, I don't believe you would have trouble controlling your magic fully. Nor be beholden to the dark magic here at court. As it is, I think there's a fair chance that the dark magic in the air and harrow hounds poison is connected somehow. But that's just a theory—Ronan? Ronan, are you all right?"
The world contracted around him. His vision narrowed. His breath vanished.
If he was poisoned, what did that mean for the future of his household and family? What did that mean for him and Bailey? Gods, what about Jax?
Guilt roiled beneath his skin as a sickening worry wrapped around him.
"What about Jax?"
"What about him?" she asked, cocking her head.
"Is he still…?"
"Poisoned?" Ronan nodded dully. "If my theory is correct, then yes. I'll know for sure with a blood sample."
"How do I get rid of it? There must be an antidote."
The candles encircling them flared higher. Valdora sighed. "There could be, but I would need a large sample of blood from the harrow hounds. Otherwise, I can't hope to make an antidote."
Ronan gestured to the midnight crystal. "Can't you use that?"
"I'm afraid not. It's barely corporeal, contained even as it is like this. However, if you're willing, you could go back to the Otherworld and secure a sample for me."
He froze.
Return when he told Jax he wouldn't?
Risk being stuck in that hell?
A tremor ran through him. "I can't."
Valdora's shoulders sagged, but she nodded her head in understanding. "Even with a large enough sample, there's no guarantee I could make an antidote."
Ronan sank into a deep slouch. "So, what do I do? Wait around for it to kill me?"
Valdora's hand slid across the table, her palm open and expectant. Ronan placed his hand in hers. Comforting warmth, akin to a young summer sun, embraced his hand and soothed the caustic panic growing inside him.
"I don't think it's that dire," she admitted cautiously. Ronan wore his confusion openly. "You've survived this long without the temple's healing powers aiding you. I think it's fair to assume that the longer you stay away from the Otherworld and those harrow hounds, your bodies will naturally detox the poison after a time."
Ronan withdrew his hand to rest his face in it momentarily. "Good," he breathed. "That's good."
"That's very good, Ronan," Valdora confirmed warmly. "It means we can focus on finding the dark magic infecting the vampyrés in earnest. Once we have that, I'll test it against my sample."
"Finding the culprit behind the dark magic might prove to be easier," Ronan said.
Her mouth tightened a fraction. "Finding the culprit will be pointless if the dark magics aren't the same."
"They are," Ronan said darkly.
Valdora stayed silent a moment. "I believe so too, but let's not go on a witch hunt yet. We don't know what larger games might be at play, and if your Otherworld is involved somehow, we're treading into dangerous waters. Waters that involve Gods with untold reach and power."
"Understood."
Valdora offered a tentative smile. "Keep doing what you're doing and try to get me a sample of one of the infected before their bodies are disposed of. We'll plan our next move after that, all right?"
"Thank you. For everything."
Valdora's smile brightened. "Thank you for taking a chance on me."
"Do you need help cleaning?"
She shook her head and waved him off, already leaning to the side where one of the many black candles sat on the floor. Ronan's returning smile faltered as she extinguished the candle with a quick breath.
Apprehension sunk its claws into him. Ronan stiffened.
"Valdora?"
"Hmm?" The sorceress turned blue eyes his way. Sensing his change, she straightened. "What is it?"
He held up his hand for her to see the swirl of shadows circling his fingertips and coasting down his wrist and forearm. Ronan's jaw was clenched, as he glared at the shadow's appearance.
"It's happening. The dark magic is summoning me," he said tightly. "Your candles must have been blocking it—argh!"
Valdora jumped to her feet and snatched his unshadowed wrist.
"Be strong, Ronan, and whatever you do, don't give in to whatever the darkness demands."
"What?" he gasped, his wrist dematerializing from her grip as the shadows continued to devour him. Valdora rocked into the table from the sudden lack of contact. "Why?" he demanded.
Her eyes were wide as saucers watching the darkness cloak him. The tail of the shadows was already edging toward the door of the study.
The remaining black candles blew out in an unnatural gust.
"Because we don't know if the dark magic and poison are connected! If they are—" his eyes widened before he was consumed completely by shadows and darkness. Valdora's last words were lost to him.
XIII
No matter how much the fast-paced action of the court kept Bailey on her toes, she was well aware on a nightly basis that she wasn't cut out for this kind of life long-term. The constant glitz and glam. The never-ending game of political chess. It wasn't her scene.
As it happened, neither was the opera, but she was there regardless.
Bailey staved off the temptation to cross her arms and pout like a child.
The only reason she allowed herself to be dragged to the evening's outing—the premiere of the opera Falstaff—was because she was under the impression Ronan would be there. Her source was wrong. Bailey slid forward in her seat and cast a pointed glare at Jakob three seats over. His attention was steadfastly elsewhere.
Bailey grumbled under her breath. She’d undergone over an hour's worth of primping by Irina's hand in hopes of striking Ronan speechless. But he hadn't come.
Her heart clenched painfully.
Bailey hated his silent treatment, but she still held out hope they’d make amends soon. If only for the sake of their combined sanity. Three nights without contact, and she was growing entirely too restless for her liking.
However, Bailey was pragmatic enough to attribute some of that restlessness to her tragic encounter with Luka Krovopuskov and the shadowmancer. And fighting with River.
They were yet to make up, and because the universe had it out for her, naturally, they were seated next to each other. Bailey slumped in her seat, giving into her earlier temptation and folding her arms over her chest with a small pout. The skirts of her velvet gown bunched awkwardly at her less-than-pristine posture.
