It was dark and cold when I awoke. I had no memory of what had happened in that magical bubble. Or how I'd ended up lying face-up in this room. Or why the hell my head ached as I sat up.
I was in a cell of some sorts. My hands slid over damp, slimy stone as I pushed myself up. From what I could see in the dim light, the small room was made entirely of stone except for a small, barred window.
Something else was wrong—my magic was gone. Panicked, I struggled to find the hum beneath my skin, but couldn't find it.
"Good morning." Cyrus's voice boomed in the cell, and I glanced around looking for the source. The cell door was shrouded in darkness, but I heard it squeak open and my kidnapper appeared in a small trickle of light.
I had a million questions, but I kept my mouth shut. If I could find Gavon, maybe this would all be okay.
"I do apologize for the headache, but I doubted you would come willingly," Cyrus said to my silence. "And since you've got an important day today, I wanted you to put your best foot forward with the Guild."
That, I had to respond to. "Wh…what's happening today?"
"Your introduction day," Cyrus said. A far off reminder, Guild politics, introduction day was….
"I don't want to be inducted!" I cried, springing to my feet then groaning and bracing against the cell wall as my headache thudded in my skull.
"Dear, you're a year away from that," Cyrus drawled. "At least. Your introduction day is simply…showcasing your powers for the Guild to consider you for membership."
"Whatever," I snapped, my hand coming to cover my heart. "I don't want that. I don't want to be part of your stupid Guild, and I don't—"
"You don't have a say in the matter," Cyrus said. "Your father promised you to us when you were born."
A thud fell in the back of my mind.
"F…father?"
Cyrus stepped into my cell, practically salivating at my shock. I hated him more. "Come now, don't tell me it's a complete surprise? You never knew your father, and suddenly upon Magic's Eve, you receive a visit from an older man who takes a particularly fatherly interest in you and you don't even question? Not to mention you both have that particular shade of Warrior Magic?" Cyrus laughed softly. "Gavon said you were the smart one."
I had considered it, dreamed and hoped about it. It had been staring me in the face since the moment I met him, and despite all the lies Jeanie had fed me, I knew the truth.
But somehow…this felt wrong. Gavon wouldn't promise me to the Guild.
Except that explains why he's been training you all this time, the voice in my head said.
Were Jeanie and Nicole right?
It didn't seem possible. Not Gavon.
Cyrus chuckled, presumably at the confusion on my face. "We've been waiting for this day since your birth. Since your two sisters were duds—a potion-maker and a healer, how embarrassing for him."
Shock turned to anger. "Don't you dare talk about my sisters like that."
His hand connected with my cheek and I flew off the stone bench.
"You will not talk to your Master like that," he bellowed, his voice echoing in the chamber. "Gavon was kind—most in the Guild would have killed the potion-maker at birth and impressed the healer into training. But I will not be so gentle."
"M…master?" I whimpered, slowly removing my hand.
"When you are introduced tomorrow, you will become my apprentice," Cyrus said, standing straighter and turning to leave. He paused in the doorway. "That is, if you survive the introduction match."
The door slammed shut, and I couldn't breathe.
Master? Introduction?
Gavon was my father.
I'd known, but I hadn't let myself believe I'd be so lucky. He was everything I'd ever wanted a father to be. In the back of my mind, I'd envisioned him putting his arm around me and explaining all the reasons why he'd been absent the last fifteen years and they would make perfect sense. I would forgive him, and he and I and my sisters would move in together and…
A tear slipped down my cheek, followed by another.
And instead of my made-for-TV movie ending, I got a rude explanation by a man who seemed intent on killing me.
If you survive.
More tears fell, and I couldn't stop them. I was going to fight in a match, and there was a very real possibility that I wasn't going to live to see the end of the day. I tried to remember what I knew about dueling, but my mind was too scattered with fear, not to mention the headache that would not go away.
I sniffed loudly, wishing I wasn't so weak. I was sure Cyrus stood just outside my cell. Maybe he drew power from my tears. Or he was just a sadistic bastard.
Either way, I hastily wiped my cheeks and forced myself to get a grip. Gavon had said—
Gavon.
Had the past few months been training me for this? Father or no, he'd taught me a lot. I wasn't passing out after every spell, and I'd held my own for a bit against James. For a while.
"Warriors don't whine. We just do," I whispered to myself. "A calm magical is a useful magical."
A tepid calm washed over me as I exhaled, and I allowed myself little hope that maybe my death wasn't a foregone conclusion after all.
Several hours later, Cyrus opened the door to my cell, enjoying my tear-soaked cheeks and disheveled look. Well, if he thought I was going to roll over and die, he had another thing coming. I'd spent the last however-long-I'd-been-locked away pumping myself up to kick some magical ass. Perhaps my confidence would all go away in the first minute of sparring, but up until then, I wouldn't give him the satisfaction of seeing me upset.
"Shall we, Apprentice?" he said.
I wasn't his apprentice yet, but my cheek was a throbbing reminder not to piss him off, so I didn't correct him. Wordlessly, I stood and walked out of the open cell. As soon as I passed the threshold, the hum of magic returned.
"What the hell?" I gasped, looking at him then back at the cell.
"Iron," Cyrus said, with almost a bored expression. "The only metal that can contain magic." As if to prove a point, he dangled a pair of manacles in his left hand, a silent warning. But he needn't have worried. I had no idea where I was or how far away from Gavon, so my best bet would be to follow without protest.
Cyrus' basement prison led into a house equivalent in size and opulence to Gavon's, although Gavon's seemed a bit nicer, more inviting.
We stepped outside the house and I stopped short.
There was an old carriage waiting for us…but instead of horses, there were two horse-sized dragon-looking things. They screeched and clawed at the ground, spitting fire that sparked out before it caught anything around them.
"Are you unfamiliar with wyverns?" Cyrus said, turning and observing me. "My lord, what has that father of yours been teaching you?"
Instead of answering, as I didn't trust my voice not to betray emotion, I continued walking toward the carriage, swallowing my fear of the winged beasts. My skin tingled with unfamiliar magic, and I looked down. I no longer wore my hoodie and jeans, but a white shirt that billowed to my hands, a leather vest, dark cotton pants, and leather boots that would make Callista jealous.
"The official Death Eater uniform?" I asked, glancing back at Cyrus.
Cyrus squinted at me quizzically. Guess he’d never read Harry Potter.
"You must present well, Apprentice. Or the Guild might consider killing you before you even get to the fighting ring."
"Noted."
The village looked like something out of a period movie, all dirt roads and thatched roofs. A sewage smell permeated the air, blown by a cold wind that cut right through my cotton shirt. The villagers wore the same sort of clothes as I did, but they didn't seem bothered by the cold.
I'd thought it odd we didn't just transport into the ring, but as the villagers gathered to gawk at me, I realized I was part of a one-person parade. Cyrus hadn't been lying that I was well-known. Villagers, mostly dirty and missing teeth, bowed as I rode past.
"Welcome, Mistress McKinnon."
"We are pleased to see you well, Mistress McKinnon."
"Best of luck in today's match."
I nodded dumbly at them, curiosity getting the better of me. "How do they know me?"
"When you were promised to us, you were promised not simply as a member of the Guild, but as a potential Guildmaster."
My head swiveled around. "What?"
"Gavon wanted a child raised in your world to lead us," Cyrus said, as if he were discussing the weather.
I almost didn't want to ask. "Lead us to what?"
"The reclaiming of our lands," Cyrus said. "To complete James Riley's dream of enslavement of the Nonmagicals."
My jaw dropped. "And what makes you think I'm okay with that?"
Cyrus's gaze slid over to me. "My dear, I don't think you'll live past today, so it doesn't really matter."
Despite my fear, I glared at him and turned to a nearby villager who'd come up to greet me.
"Thank you. I plan on winning," I said, not missing how Cyrus's mouth turned down.
We meandered slowly toward a large stone arena, piece of which littered the dirt road. The stones grew progressively larger, scorched and jagged as if blown off the arena by a great deal of magic.
The carriage stopped in front of the looming stone structure, and Cyrus stepped out of the carriage, offering his hand, but my gaze fell on the ten magicals assembled behind him.
They were all in their sixties or older, and I could tell they were powerful by the way the hair on my arms stood upright. But what scared me most of all was they were Warriors.
It became clear to me why John Chase had wanted specialties eradicated, especially Warriors. Wielded by the wrong person, by these people, the results could be catastrophic.
But if they were Warriors, why did they need me?
Cyrus's magic wrapped around my legs and yanked me off the carriage, and then pressed against my back, forcing me into a low bow.
Then, horrifically, the magic pushed into my mouth and down into my lungs and I spoke. "It is my honor to meet you, esteemed Council."
I stared at the ground, nauseated but refusing to retch in front of whoever this esteemed Council was.
They seemed pleased with my humiliation, and vanished in a multicolored puff of smoke.
"It's a shame Gavon hasn't taught you basic manners," Cyrus said, adjusting his fine leather gloves.
My own hands tingled from the cold, but my new Death Eater uniform hadn't come with gloves. Or, as I found when I searched my hips, pockets.
I settled for crossing my arms over my chest and digging my fingers into my armpits, as I scurried after Cyrus into a dark tunnel. The wind was even worse, tossing my hair around and cutting right through my shirt.
It was at this point I remembered I had magic, as did everyone else in the village. My thick cotton shirt suddenly became as warm as a winter coat and I managed to magic my hair into a long braid. Cyrus tossed a look behind me, as if he somehow expected me to freeze to death. I returned his look with gusto.
The tunnel opened into the arena, which resembled the Roman arenas I'd seen during history class. Stone stands rose to the skies around an oval playing field. I could see remnants of magical circles etched into the stone ground, which was already missing several pieces.
"I only suppose I don't have to give you a primer on dueling," Cyrus said.
"What would it matter if you think I'm going to die anyway?" I shot back.
"If you don't," he said with a sneer. "I'm going to enjoy breaking you of your nasty disposition."
"Good luck."
His eyes flashed, and his magic pressed around my throat, closing my windpipe. I gasped, suddenly missing the precious air I'd taken for granted my whole life. But even as spots danced in my vision, I refused to even look in his direction for help.
"Cyrus."
Air returned to my lungs, and I collapsed to my knees, gasping. But I didn't dare look up. I couldn't, not when I still had so many questions.
"You don't get to interfere with my apprentice, Master Gavon," Cyrus said, adjusting his gloves again. "Even if she is your daughter."
At that, I couldn't not see his reaction. His eyes flashed angrily, then quickly diverted to me, before his gaze settled squarely on Cyrus.
"I am familiar with the Guild's rules," he said stiffly. "May I have a word with her before the match?"
My heart flew to the sky. Gavon was going to save me!
"I don't believe so," Cyrus said, dashing my dreams. "The match is soon, and she'll need her focus. Besides," he smiled in my direction, and I bared my teeth at him, "she'll need to learn how to get on without you eventually."
I waited for Gavon to argue and to do some kung fu magic stuff to Cyrus's stupid face. But he simply nodded his agreement and, with a swish of his cloak, he was gone.
I heard another thud somewhere in the back of my mind.
Gavon wasn't going to help me.
Jeanie was right. Cyrus was right, too.
I was nothing but the product of some plan. My poor mother had been an unwilling participant in his evil schemes. If Marie or Nicole had been born with Warrior magic, I wouldn't even be alive.
"Dry your tears, Lexie," Cyrus whispered in my ear. "The worst pain is yet to come."