Witchrise by Victoria Lamb

Author:Victoria Lamb [Lamb, Victoria]
Language: eng
Format: epub, azw3, mobi
Tags: Juvenile Fiction, General, Juvenile Nonfiction, Language Arts
ISBN: 9781448120239
Google: M7Y8AwAAQBAJ
Amazon: B00HFALD1S
Publisher: Random House
Published: 2014-07-29T23:00:00+00:00

TWELVE

Blood Magick

Marcus swung down out of the saddle and looked directly at me in the doorway.

‘Meg,’ he said lightly, and swept the cap from his head with an exaggerated bow.

It was the Marcus Dent from my visions. Only this time there was no cloudy illusion to hide his face from me. That was when I realized what was different about him. He was almost handsome now – his face was no longer scarred, and his dead eye was whole and blue again, watching me sharply, no longer destroyed.

His hair was sleek and fair too, shining in the sunlight. ‘Good day to you. I trust you are in good health? What of your mistress, the Lady Elizabeth? I had heard she was unwell. But perhaps now Meg Lytton is returned to her side, the lady has miraculously recovered?’

I stared and could not speak, my insides clenching.

‘What is the matter? Am I not courteous enough to match your God-fearing Spanish priest?’ Marcus queried, raising his brows at my expression. His smile was wry. ‘Oh, my appearance. But there is no reason to be surprised. You are not the only one with a little power, my dear Meg.’ With a pass of his hand, he returned his face to the scarred ruin I remembered from our last meeting. The white eye stared at nothing, his lips bared to reveal broken and blackened teeth, new reddened scars like burns across his throat.

I gasped at the hideous transformation, unable to snatch the sound back, and his laughter chilled me.

‘Agreed.’ Marcus waved his hand and his face was whole again, ten years younger, startlingly handsome. ‘I think this face suits me better too.’

I turned to shut myself into the house, to protect those still within, and at once he was there, pushing me inexorably aside as though I weighed less than a feather.

I fumbled for a word of power and Marcus Dent smiled, placing one long finger on my lips. ‘Yes?’

I opened my mouth but found myself unable to speak, my voice stolen by his spell.

‘The silence of a woman is a rare gift indeed.’ He walked past me and saw the Lady Elizabeth, frozen on her high-backed seat. ‘Ah yes, your mistress looks much improved. Reading a letter, I see.’ He crossed and plucked the letter from the princess’s hand, beginning to read aloud in a mocking voice, ‘Dearest sister, I trust you are well . . . et cetera, et cetera. From the Queen herself, no less. What exalted company you keep here, Meg.’ He dropped the letter on Elizabeth’s chest. ‘But where is your Spaniard?’

The sun, slanting in through the high windows, illuminated Alejandro’s dark head, still bent over his verses. He was wearing no sword, out of deference to the princess’s wishes. Though even if he had been, he could not have drawn it. For Alejandro sat deaf and dumb, unable to move and not even knowing that he needed to, so utterly blind to the danger that approached him. Vulnerable to the worst, most creeping evil .

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