“I won’t eat or drink any of that,” she said, backing away. She felt hated tears prickling at her eyes but refused to let them fall. “I don’t know why you’re doing this. You don’t have to. Take the coven. I don’t want it anymore.”
He took a few steps toward her, the tray shaking in his hands. “What are you on about, m’dear? Goodness, that spell must have hit you like a blow to the head. Sit down.”
She stopped backing up. Even without magic, she could take Milo. He wasn’t any bigger than her and he was older and never exercised. Her mother had been teaching her and her brothers self-defense moves since they could toddle.
The larder door creaked open further and a large, burly man appeared behind him. She recognized him as someone who’d joined the coven recently. He was only a few years older than her and not overly talented. She thought his name was Anders. She’d barely spoken ten words to him except to formally welcome him, and then a week or so back she’d complimented some work he’d been doing out in the garden.
Why would he be part of this? What could he possibly have against her? It hurt almost as badly as being betrayed by Milo, who she trusted. The burly Anders cracked his knuckles and moved closer to Milo. She felt less confident in her self-defense training with the both of them staring at her.
“Eat the bread and jam, Your Majesty, and wash it down with the tea. It won’t hurt none,” Anders said, both menacing and reassuring at the same time.
“Why are you doing this?” she cried. If she could get him on her side, she’d have a chance to get out of there alive. “I told you, take the coven. Be its leader if that’s what you want. Anders, do you want more money? Is that what this is about? Milo has no money to give you, only what I’d leave behind. I can set you up to have an unlimited amount, for your whole life.” She stopped when she saw he stared at her with icy hatred.
“My name is Bergen,” he said, his voice as cold as his eyes.
She hadn’t even been close. “Oh God, do you hate me because I didn’t remember your name? I’ve always been rubbish at names. I don’t know why. I can remember French verbs until the cows come home. I’m sorry, Bergen. Please, is that a reason to kill me?”
With every terrified word, she backed away from them. She opened her mouth to babble some more, thinking it might confuse him until she could get to the door, perhaps find something heavy enough to bash his big head in or merely run like hell.
“Enough!” Milo slammed the tray to the floor. The cup and jam jar shattered and the pitcher rolled away, spilling tea in small rivulets. The bread bounced almost comically before landing in the puddle of tea.
“Sir, I put all the— everything we had in there,” Bergen said.
Relief almost overwhelmed her. She had a chance if all their poison was gone. She could still try and reason with them or fight if she had to. Run if she could keep easing her way to the door.
“It doesn’t matter.” Milo reached into the back of his waistcoat and pulled out a gun. “If we can’t do it the easy way, we’ll do it the hard way. But it gets done.”
Ariana felt an intense longing to see her mother again as she watched the bread soak up the poisoned tea. She dragged her gaze away from what she thought might be her salvation, right into the barrel of Milo’s gun.
Chapter 18
Owen felt wind gusting past him, heard the crashing of horses’ hooves. And then he fell to his knees in a courtyard, staring up at a huge house. It was grand, but worn down looking. Why was he here? How had he gotten here in the first place. A hand wrenched him to his feet.
“Hurry, hurry, hurry,” Maria said, her eyes glazed and shoulders trembling. “There are wards, they’re strong. But I think I can break them.”
Something was wrong with Maria. More wrong. She looked like she could barely stand as she pointed shakily at a door. It all came rushing back to him. Ariana was gone, in terrible danger. Maria must have done something to get him to where she was, and it was affecting her badly.
Whoever or whatever was in her wasn’t strong enough to take care of Maria and break whatever wards she was talking about. She’d done enough. He had to do whatever needed to be done now. Before he could tell her to stop, she shoved him ruthlessly toward the door. He felt like he flew through the air as it loomed closer and closer, about to hit him square in the face. He thrust out his hands to shove the door open, banging against it. Stupid, stupid. He turned the handle and flung it open, throwing himself through it with exceptional force. It had to be Maria, still pushing him, though she was now far behind him, still in the courtyard.
What he saw made him forget his worry for Maria. Time seemed to slow. A bald man held a gun mere inches from Ariana’s face. This must be the man who took her away against her will, drugged her or put her under some foul spell. A big farmhand type stood looming just behind him, but Owen barely gave him any thought. Owen hated the bald man on sight, and he felt his all consuming antipathy for the man was deeper than his current wrongs against Ariana. It was as if Owen had a lifetime of anger built up against him. He’d never seen Ariana look so broken and
