“They are the most powerful practitioners in the magical world. But, like I said before, it’s not because of their own inherent magic. It’s how they control others.”
I gave a stuttering nod in reply. “How long does a sorcerer king live for? I mean, are they like the other magical races – can they live for hundreds, if not thousands of years?”
Jim shrugged. “It depends on how much power they can amass. If they’re strong enough – and some of the kings of old were plenty strong enough – then yeah. They can live practically forever.”
“How does a time spell work, anyway? What are its limitations? I mean, how is it not going to break the timeline?” I stumbled through my questions, hoping I made sense.
“I don’t really know. To be honest, temporal metaphysics isn’t my specialty. Tracking down assholes like the Lonely King is. But a fat lot of good that did me,” Jim muttered. Then he returned his full attention to me. “But none of this stuff matters. The only thing that matters is finding a way out of here. The Lonely King may have pumped you full of blocking compound, but I’ve heard how strong you are from the other members of the coven. If anyone can push past that compound, it’s you. And you have to. You have to see the future, figure a way out of this room, because if you don’t,” he didn’t finish his sentence, just trailed off as a sickly, pale look overcame his cheeks.
My world was literally tipping out from underneath me. I didn’t feel like I was on a flat floor anymore. It felt like I was in a broken rollercoaster, one that was pitching from side-to-side, threatening to throw me out at any moment.
“Seer, I know you’re new to this world – but you are our only hope. Push past the confusion and fear, push past the compound, and figure out a way out of this room. We are running out of time.” Jim tipped his head back, angling it towards the windows.
It looked to be about noon, which meant we had approximately seven hours left. I gulped. Then something struck me – a memory that had been playing at the corners of my mind but one I hadn’t been able to remember until now. “Where’s Max?” I asked in a shaking voice as I realized I couldn’t even remember how I’d gotten here. I remembered going into the library with Max, remembered the compactors, then nothing. The next thing I’d known, I’d woken up here.
Jim’s cheeks became pale as he looked at me. “Max is the name of your bodyguard, right?” There was a slow, careful edge to Jim’s tone.
Warily, I nodded. I felt… a hole, like I was missing something….
“It makes sense that you lost a little of your memory considering how much blocking compound the Lonely King used on you,” Jim explained quietly.
Horror now pulsed through my heart as the memory I was fighting for started to form in my mind. “Where’s Max?” I asked, practically screaming at Jim.
“I imagine he never made it out of the library. He bought us some time, but it wasn’t enough. One of the Lonely King’s many faceless assassins came after us in the elevator. As for Max… the truth is, I don’t know. But no one could go up against a sorcerer king…” Jim trailed off.
Me? I started to sink. It honestly felt as if the floor had turned into quicksand and I was being sucked beneath it. My heart felt like it plunged from my chest, pushed through my torso, and melted into the center of the Earth.
No, Max couldn’t be… he couldn’t be dead. Not after all the effort I’d put into figuring out what he was, into trying to find some way to save him. He couldn’t leave me alone, not now. Not ever.
I was usually the kind of girl who kept my feelings close to my chest. There was a reason your heart was buried safely beneath your rib cage. As I’d already mentioned, smart people did not wear their heart on their sleeve. They controlled and measured their feelings. You never knew what life could throw at you. Why bother falling head over heels for some guy if he might turn out to be a prick, or move halfway across the country, or fall for somebody else?
The only way to secure true happiness was to never invest your heart fully into something.
So why did this hurt so much? Why did it honestly feel as if someone had taken a knife to my heart and carved it up?
I didn’t have long to consider that question. Something in the wall started to groan. There was an echoing click, a thump, and I heard the unmistakable movement of machinery.
Then a door appeared out of the very wood. It went from being nothing but wall one second, to being a fully formed door the next, one that looked as if it had always been there.
The door swung open silently on its hinges, and in walked a man.
“Who are you?” I managed to stutter.
“That’s the Lonely King,” Jim answered through a hiss.
Damn. The Lonely King didn’t look like I expected him to. I imagined he’d be a cookie-cutter of Max the sorcerer king from the past. Broad shoulders, powerful build, and a look like he could split the world in two with nothing more than his gaze.
But this man looked like nothing more than an ordinary person. He wasn’t too tall, didn’t have a particularly broad build. He looked as if he were in his mid-40s, and his features were unusually soft, giving you the impression he was a nice man.
He was wearing a pristine white, pressed shirt, gray suit pants, a dark black leather belt, and golden cufflinks.
As
