Taliesin Ascendant (The Children and the Blood) by Skye Malone, Megan Joel Peterson Page B

knowledge they’d been so close when she was sleeping sent shivers running over her skin.
    Drawing a breath, she tried to stay calm as she eyed the tray. Wisps of steam rose from the bowl of oatmeal and moisture dripped from the tiny carafe of cream nearby. A flask of orange juice sat next to the meal, beside a crystal glass. Carefully setting her gun aside, she reached up, tipping a small amount of the cream into the bowl and then drawing the dish down from the table. Vaguely sweet and deliciously warm, the oatmeal nevertheless hit her stomach like lead, though her body seemed determined to accept even lead as welcome at the moment. She kept eating, and in only a few minutes, returned the empty bowl to the tray.
    Her head cleared as the food settled, and she ran a hand through her hair, tugging at the mess of tangles. They’d be waiting out there. The wizards, with their talk of royalty, former identities, and binding spells. They’d want to speak further, and carry on like she had any intention of staying in this place, all while continuing to stare at her like a bug on display.
    She closed her eyes. It didn’t matter. Everything Darius said yesterday was psychotic, certifiable, and all otherwise insane. She couldn’t let it affect her.
    It wasn’t why she was here.
    Exhaling resolutely, she rose and, after a moment’s thought, tucked the gun into the back of her jeans. Crossing the room, she opened the door, and then came to a sharp stop at the sight of Cornelius waiting outside.
    “Good morning,” he said impassively. “May I speak with you?”
    Hesitating briefly, she nodded and let the door shut behind her. Displeasure crossed his face at their location in the hall, but he buried it swiftly.
    “I came to ask you not to discuss the so-called ‘Blood’ with the council.”
    Her brow drew down. “Why?”
    “The Blood were Josiah’s creation. They do not exist.”
    A choked scoff escaped her at the bluntness of his tone. “Yes they do. I saw them.”
    “What did you see?” he asked, as though he already knew the answer. “A human? Perhaps one who was nearby when magic was done? Perhaps even one so nearby that it almost appeared the magic originated from them?”
    When she started to shake her head, he grimaced. “Please. Do not bring this up again. That Josiah is known to be insane is enough. But dredging up these fantasies… it will accomplish nothing but to further shame the memory of a man who served your family with unwavering loyalty for twenty years, and who would have continued to do so, had he not lost his mind to the ravages of war.”
    She stared at him, uncertain whether to be offended, outraged, or just both. “He wasn’t crazy.”
    Cornelius’ face darkened. “Yes, he was. And he spent the better part of eight years proving–”
    He cut off as Katherine and another man rounded the corner. With a measure of difficulty, he reasserted his composure and then nodded coolly as the others walked up.
    Ashe glanced over, struggling to bring her expression back to something that wouldn’t raise questions she wasn’t ready to answer.
    “Good morning,” said the man at Katherine’s side. He gave Ashe a small bow, and she tried not to shift uncomfortably. “Elias de Vila, your majesty. Fifth in line of authority on the Merlin council and representative of the eastern Canadian region.”
    He smiled as her eyes went from him to Katherine. “I believe you’ve already met my wife. Did you sleep well?”
    “Fine,” she managed, though the word felt like a lie, since collapsing where she sat probably didn’t count. She glanced between them again, struggling not to appear rude. The man was a perfect foil of his wife, as friendly as she was cold. His wavy hair hung loose to his shoulders, with gray interspersing the brown, and his ageless face belied any years the color might have tried to ascribe.
    “I think they’re ready,” Elias said.
    Ashe looked to Cornelius in confusion, but the man