Текст книги "Bespelled"

Автор книги: Laura Thalassa

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“I love you too, Mom,” I say.

“Love you, Booger!” my dad shouts from the background.

“Ugh, Dad.” I hear him laugh in the distance. “I love you too,” I say. “Now both of you go do something fun, like stare at piles of rocks someone stacked together centuries ago.”

“All right, but be careful,” my mom warns again.

“I will,” I promise.

“Okay,” she says, only sounding half convinced. “Love you, bye!”

“Bye.” I sigh and toss my phone aside, lying on my back.

What a fucking day the last twenty-four hours have been.

I continue to lie there, my body and mind exhausted. Need a shower. And food and…

My stomach drops when I realize all last night and this morning, Memnon came in me. Even now, I can feel the evidence of it.

For a moment, my head is screaming.

Selene? Memnon says down our bond, noticing my panic.

I slow my breathing.

What is it? he presses.

Everything’s fine, Memnon, I respond.

You seem to only say that when things are not fine.

I peel myself off the floor. They will be, I say, and then I close off communication with him.

I drag my creaky body downstairs, determined to cook up some birth control spell in the kitchen. I’m pretty sure someone’s pinned that potion on one of the walls in there.

The witches I pass look equally haggard, some of them still wearing last night’s costumes—what remains of them at least. Others lie passed out in the common rooms—there’s a knot of naked witches lying together in the library, the remnants of last night’s orgy.

As soon as I duck into the spell kitchen, I nearly cry in relief. Someone has set out a tray of deep blue potions in tiny corked bottles, each of them neatly labeled Contraceptive Potion.

A tag attached to each vial says: To be taken after intercourse.

I unstopper one and drink it then and there. Taking no chances. I have no problem with children—I nearly had one when I was Roxilana. But as Selene, I simply do not want any for the foreseeable future.

I grab another potion vial for Sybil, then leave the spell kitchen and head to her room. It’s only once I step inside and see her made bed and the costume options she laid out for me on top of it that I realize she hasn’t been back.

She’s still with Sawyer.

My heart drops when I remember her and Mai and Olga. All of them left with shifters. And if their nights were anything like mine…

Setting the contraceptive potion on Sybil’s desk, I rush back to my room and snatch up my phone. I scroll to Sybil’s number, my heart beating a mile a minute, and call my best friend.

It rings once…twice…

Please be okay. Please be ok⁠—

“Ugh, you heathen,” Sybil groggily croaks on the other end of the line. “Why are you calling me? And what time is it?”

I exhale, my entire body relaxing at her voice. She sounds grumpy but otherwise fine.

“It’s noon-ish, I think,” I say, “Where are you?”

“Um—”

I hear the low tones of a man’s voice in the background.

“Is that Sawyer?” I ask.

“What’s up, Selene?” I hear him call out.

“I didn’t know he knew my name.”

“You’re my best friend,” Sybil says. “Of course he knows your name.” She yawns. “And I’m at his place. Goddess, what was in that witch’s brew? It hit me like a freight train.” More to herself than to me, she adds, “I think I need to ice my vagina.”

I let out a small, semihysterical laugh at the reminder that I did a lot of bad things with a bad man and I am regret incarnate.

It was a one-time thing, I remind myself all over again.

“Did you know that was going to happen with the witch’s brew?” I ask, not quite accusing. Sybil had insinuated the celebrations were wild when she mentioned ripping through her last costume.

She gives an awful laugh. “Not to that extent I didn’t.” After a moment, Sybil adds, “I’m sorry about last night. You were trying to tell me you didn’t want to be on shifter territory, and I didn’t listen and then…”

And then it was too late.

“We were all really drunk,” I say. It’s the closest I’ll come to accepting the apology.

After a moment, she says, “Did you and Kane…”

Goddess, she missed that part of the evening.

“No. No, I…uh…got together with someone else.”

Legs over my shoulders.

“Who?” she demands.

I stare at my feet, biting the inside of my cheek.

On your hands and knees.

“Who?” she presses.

You’re going to call me husband or soul mate. Anything else gets punished.

“Who do you think?” I say hoarsely.

Now it’s Sybil’s turn to be quiet.

She doesn’t know about the binding spell forged between me and Memnon, I realize. Or how the sorcerer is helping me solve the open mysteries on campus. All she knows is that he screwed me over and I hate his guts.

“Are you judging me?” I ask.

Another pause. “No.”

“You are judging me,” I say.

I don’t know why that makes me feel a little hurt. I’ve given Sybil every reason to hate Memnon’s guts on my behalf. She’s just being a loyal friend.

“No. Okay, well, maybe a little,” she admits. “But, Selene, Kane was literally right there. How did you fumble it for that asshole?”

My throat works. “It was the Sacred Seven, and I was afraid of getting bitten.”

“So instead you got together with the dude whose house you burned down.” She doesn’t try to hide her judgment now.

I wince.

“Just tell me the sex was worth it.”

I let out a laugh that might be a sob. “It was worth it.”

Sybil whistles. “Damn, that good? I need to look into boning my enemy…”

In the background, I hear, “No, you don’t,” followed by the sounds of kissing and Sybil’s laughter.

“How are you?” I ask as delicately as I can.

“You mean, am I a wolf witch?” she asks.

In the distance, I hear Sawyer mutter something.

“You can breathe, Selene. I haven’t been bitten.” She turns her mouth away from the phone as though addressing Sawyer. “Yet.”

I frown. Does my friend want to be turned? We’ve never actually had a serious conversation on this subject, and I just assumed she was having fun and not taking anything too seriously. But maybe I misjudged the whole thing.

Sybil’s voice returns to the phone. “I’ll have to get back before curfew.”

Oh, crap, that’s right.

“By the way,” Sybil continues, “Olga definitely got down with at least two shifters…”

She keeps talking, but I’m still lingering on the mention of curfew, because tonight I might have to break it. I have a meeting with the lycanthropes I have to make.

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CHAPTER 20

I don’t want to do this, I think as I step out onto the back patio of the residence hall, Nero at my side. I really, really don’t want to do this.

After the way I left things with Kane, I’m dreading our reunion. However, the lycanthropes showed me loyalty when no one else did. I owe it to them to show up, despite the messy situation with my former crush.

Still, I’m bringing my emotional support panther to bolster my courage.

I force myself to head toward the Everwoods. Even though there’s still over an hour left until curfew, I see several older witches casting wards at the tree line.

When I reach the edge of the forest, one of these witches, whose iron-gray hair is twisted into a bun at the nape of her neck, calls out. “These wards go into effect at six o’clock sharp. Make sure you’re back by then.”

I pause. “What will happen if I cross after six?” I don’t know how long this meeting will take.

The witch gives me an arch look. “Is the threat of a violent death not convincing enough for you?” she asks tartly.

“Um…”

“It’s spelled to note each trespasser’s identity,” she adds.

Oh. That doesn’t sound too awful. Then again, that’s probably how I get my name placed right back on the Politia’s suspect list.

Going to have to ask a shifter for a ride back to my house. At least then if I’m dropped off and it pings some other erected ward at, say, Henbane’s main entrance, it will cause less scrutiny than one on the edge of the Everwoods.

Once Nero and I enter the forest, our surroundings grow unnervingly quiet.

I weave between trees, stepping over bits of discarded costumes. In the light of day, it looks particularly bleak.

I cut across the pumpkin-lined path. Today the lanterns hover a little lower in the air; a few of them have fallen to the ground altogether, their spells worn off. All of it has that post-holiday melancholy. The fun’s been had, and now life is expected to go back to normal. The campus-wide curfew isn’t helping, and I wonder how it’s affecting the Day of the Dead celebrations happening today.

I’ve nearly gotten my nerves under control when I finally make it to the thin, luminous blue line that marks the boundary between witch and shifter territory. At the sight of it, my dread instantly reforms.

I place a hand on Nero’s head. “Do you want to come the rest of the way with me, or do you want to go hunt?” I ask.

Nero gives me a look that I think says, I know you’re a fucking chicken, lady. But maybe I’m just reading into things.

Nero presses himself more firmly against my side, making his decision clear.

I take a deep breath and nod. “That’s—that’s really sweet of you.”

I force myself to make my way to the line. Once I’m there, I wait. The forest feels entirely abandoned. One minute goes by. Then two. Three, four…

I shift my weight.

Kane told me to meet him at the boundary marker, but maybe I was supposed to go to a different section of it. Or maybe after last night, Kane decided to stand me up.

I get a cowardly thrill at the idea of retreating back to my room and burying myself under my newly washed blankets.

The thought has no sooner crossed my mind than I hear the crunch of pine needles. From the shadowy depths of the woods ahead, I make out a large form.

I see the sandy blond hair and the angular cut of the man’s face.

It’s Kane.

My stomach knots itself up.

Judging from the stern set of his features, he appears even less thrilled to be here than I am.

And now I’m vividly recalling all the cringiest parts of last night and wishing I still had the ability to forget such memories.

“Hi, Kane.” I give him a dopey little wave.

He doesn’t wave back.

Nero leans into me again, and I return my hand to his head, my heart hammering away.

Kane is almost to me, his eyes briefly dropping to my familiar before coming back to mine.

Should I apologize about last night? Should I mention it at all? Or should I⁠—

Kane’s nostrils flare. “You smell like him,” he says in greeting. He looks openly disgusted.

All right, I guess we’re fucking talking about it.

“Is that a problem?” I ask, ignoring the way my cheeks heat.

“He’s the man who stalked you. Not to mention he threw me out of the third story of your house. Why would you choose that monster over me?”

Because…

I stroke his hair back, drops of my blood and tears hitting his armor.

“This is not how we end,” I whisper. “We are eternal.”

Something dark and resolute moves through me.

We are eternal.

If we cannot have this life, then we shall have another.

“Listen, Kane, I told you last night I was meeting with somebody else. You and your pack were still observing the Sacred Seven, and I didn’t want to be there.”

“Then why were you there?”

“I was drunkenly wandering with my friends. I didn’t realize until it was too late we’d made it onto your pack’s territory.”

Kane still looks angry, and his eyes are a bit heartbroken.

I search his features. “Why are you acting like I owe you something?”

“Because I fucking like you, Selene. A lot. And I thought you liked me too.”

I hear the edge of a growl in his voice.

At the sound, Nero begins to growl himself, and when I run my hand down his back, his hackles are raised.

“It’s all right,” I murmur to Nero, even as I give Kane a hard look. “Kane, we’re not dating, and for better or for worse, that monster I was with happens to be my soul mate.”

“About that—when were you going to tell me you had a mate?” Kane demands. “Or did your magic conveniently erase that memory too?”

I flinch from the accusation.

Anger rises up in me. “Actually, Kane, I did fucking forget I was a soul mate, and the only reason I do remember is because right before I was arrested the night of the full moon, Memnon ripped away the spell blocking my memories.” I wasn’t planning on admitting this, but screw it. “He did so against my will, and yes, our engagement was also forced.” I glare at the shifter. “I was never deliberately deceitful to you.”

Kane’s own anger has died down a bit, and I can see the frayed edges of his hurt in his eyes. “Then why are you with him?” he asks softly.

“Who says I’m with him?” I demand. “Sex doesn’t equal love or a relationship. I assumed you were aware of that, considering how our own friendship began.”

Kane’s jaw clenches, but he doesn’t say anything. Instead, he wordlessly turns and starts heading back into the woods. Aggression is still pouring off him, and I swear his arms look a little furrier than they did a minute ago.

“C’mon,” he says over his shoulder. “We’re going to be late.”

I share an annoyed look with my familiar—at least I’d like to think we share a moment of mutual annoyance. Nero might’ve been looking at me just because he was bored, but I’m going to assume it’s because Kane is huffy.

The three of us walk for several minutes in silence before Kane says, “You can remember your past now?”

I scowl at him. “Yes.”

“What’s that like?”

“Painfully normal,” I say, “except for the past-life memories.” Those are anything but.

Now Kane turns fully around, scrutinizing me. “Memnon was telling the truth last night? You two are some ancient couple?” The shifter doesn’t appear as skeptical as most would, but then the supernatural world is full of all sorts of impossible things. The idea of some past-life romance isn’t inconceivable.

“Yeah,” I say softly. “He was.”

“Hmm,” is all Kane says before turning around once more.

The lycan continues to walk ahead of me, and I sense his emotions are somewhat turbulent, so it’s a relief when the trees part and I catch sight of the massive cabin I partied in not too long ago. The very one where I first got together with Kane.

Only now, there are cars parked on the gravel drive in front of it and a few people milling on the porch.

Kane finally stops and waits for me and Nero to catch up.

When we get to him, the shifter clears his throat. “This is how the evening is going to go,” he says softly, “You’ll meet the pack, they’ll ask a few questions of you, and at the end of it all, you’ll be formally recognized as a friend of the pack.” Whatever bitterness Kane might personally harbor toward me, it’s wiped free from his voice as he speaks.

“How many people are inside?” I ask, glancing again at the cabin. The shifters out front have now noticed us, and they’re avidly watching my exchange with Kane.

“Almost everyone who is able to make the meeting will be inside,” he says. “This is a big deal,” he adds.

I dip my head, even as my nerves spike. I don’t know what I’m doing here. This is terrifying, and I’ve already pissed off the one shifter I’m closest to. I don’t want to be the center of anything that the pack considers a big deal.

I sense Kane’s gaze on me.

“I can hear your heartbeat,” he says quietly. “You don’t need to be nervous. Forget the shit between us. You saved one of my pack mates. You have the gratitude of me and everyone else in that building.”

I swallow and nod, and then, almost shyly, I look at him and force a smile. “Thanks,” I say softly. I pet my familiar’s dark fur, drawing in a few stabilizing breaths. “Is Nero going to be a problem?” I ask offhandedly.

Kane gives the creature a speculative look. “I guess we’ll find out.”

And with that extremely unreassuring answer, we head for the cabin.

Nero is, in fact, a problem.

That becomes massively clear seconds after the three of us step into the house.

The vast living room is filled with dozens—if not hundreds—of shifters. Most sit in foldable seats that have been brought in, though others stand along the edges of the room, packed in as close as they can get. At the sound of our entrance, they look over at me, Kane, and Nero.

For a second or two, all is well. But then, from around me, low vocalizations rumble from the shifters nearest us.

“It’s all right,” Kane reassures the crowd. “The panther is her familiar. His name is Nero.”

Kane glances at me, like he expects me to speak.

Okay, right. Public speaking. I’m a badass witch who has defied death to be here. Talking to a crowd doesn’t scare me one bit.

“Yeah, Nero. His name is Nero,” I echo woodenly. My hands are beginning to shake. “He’s really the sweetest cat.”

Nero takes the room in with steady, unblinking eyes. He doesn’t look like the sweetest cat. His body is tense and rigid, and that stillness that I associate with hunting has fallen around him.

The shifters must sense it as well because, if anything, the growls in the room only grow louder.

I really, really want my panther by my side right now. He makes me feel safe and steady. But he seems to be drawing out these shifter’s instincts, so⁠—

I crouch down in front of Nero and try my hardest to ignore the people around us.

“I know you wanted to be here for me,” I say softly, “but your safety is more important to me. Everyone in this house is my friend,” I reassure him. “I will be okay,” I promise.

I can’t read his expression, but his tail flicks like he’s considering my words.

“You can head back to our room or remain out in the woods near Henbane. I’ll be fine, and I’ll call to you if anything changes.”

Nero butts his head against my shoulder then, rubbing himself against my side. I don’t know if he’s being affectionate or marking me just to make it clear where we all stand, but I smooth my hands down his sides and give his forehead a kiss.

Rising to my feet, I open the door and let my familiar out.

“Stay safe,” I call after him.

His only response is to twitch his tail, like my concern is annoying. I guess if I were an apex predator, I might be annoyed too if a puny human fussed over me.

I close the door behind him and turn back to the room.

And…everyone is looking at me. Crap, they probably heard every last word I spoke too.

Before I can panic about it, Kane puts his hand on my lower back and steers me down the makeshift aisle in the middle of the room toward a chair set at the far end of it. Unlike the other foldable chairs, this one faces the audience.

My breath hitches.

“It’s okay,” Kane whispers to me. “Like you said to Nero, we’re friends here.”

I draw in a deep breath, ignoring my growing queasiness. When we’re nearly to my seat, an adolescent girl steps away from the nearby wall and approaches me.

My brows come together as I take in her familiar features before recognition sets in.

“Cara?” I say tentatively.

She nods, and suddenly we’re hugging, and I can feel her shaking in my arms as she sobs a little against me.

“Thank you,” she whispers. “Thank you.”

I hug her tighter and nod. I don’t really know what to say except, “I couldn’t leave you.” Not to those supernaturals.

Eventually, she pulls away to take me in.

“I wasn’t sure I’d ever see you again,” I admit, my eyes roving over her face.

The last time I laid eyes on her, she’d been mostly unconscious. To see her now, healthy and whole, is…indescribable.

She reaches out and wipes away wetness from my cheek. That’s when I realize I’m crying. Her touch is a familiar sort of gesture, one you’d do with someone you’re close to. I feel the barest hint then of what it means to be pack. The affection, the care, the bonds between members, bonds that have nothing to do with spells but instead with love and loyalty.

“I had to meet you,” she says. “I didn’t…” Her throat works. “I didn’t remember much from that night. I thought I dreamed you up.” She gives my forearms a squeeze, then backs away. With a final smile, Cara retreats to the nearby wall.

Kane is still there, waiting a short distance away. When I catch his eye, he nods to the seat set out for me. I glance at it, then blow out a breath, my heart beginning to pick up again. It doesn’t help my nerves that everyone can hear it.

Reluctantly, I sit down and let my eyes wander across the full room. The air around the lycans shimmers a little like a heat wave, and I feel my own instincts screaming at me that I’m in a den of predators.

Kane sits down in an empty chair in the first row across from me, next to several older men and women.

One of those older individuals—a ruggedly handsome man with caramel-colored skin who looks to be somewhere in his late forties—now speaks.

“Selene Bowers, welcome to the Marin Pack.”

I nod, smiling tightly.

“I’m Vincent Vilanova, alpha and leader of the Marin Pack, and I have heard quite a lot about you since you rescued Cara a couple of weeks ago.”

I give another tight smile, trying to smother my instincts, which still fully believe I’m surrounded by wolves, not people.

“I assume Kane filled you in on why you’re here.”

My gaze darts to my former crush, and I nod again.

“Good, good,” Vincent says, glancing at the crowd. “I’ve spoken at length with my pack, but I will fill everyone in again so that we’re all on the same page,” he says, turning more fully to face the room. “Selene Bowers is a witch attending Henbane Coven. Kane Halloway attended Peel Academy with her a couple years ago, and the two were friends.”

Um, more like he starred in all my teenage fantasies while (I assumed) he had no idea I existed.

But whatever. We were friends.

“A couple of weeks ago, Selene saved Cara Gutierrez from a binding ceremony that would’ve given another supernatural complete power over Cara’s free will. Such things are called forced bonds.”

My gaze slides to Cara just as the girl dips her head and stares at her feet.

“Kamal, who found Selene and Cara just inside our boundary line, said that Cara was unconscious and smelled of toxins, and Selene was bloody and badly injured.”

I chew the inside of my lip and try not to fidget as I feel the room collectively scrutinize me. It’s one thing to have lived through that night, another to hear it laid bare before an audience.

“We’ve all seen other indications that something sinister is happening on coven land. Lots of late-night movement, sightings of a seemingly living creature that doesn’t have a pulse or carry a scent.”

I start at that description. Could he be talking about that clay creature I destroyed that night?

“And of course the murders—murders that Selene here was considered a prime suspect in up until a few days ago.”

I feel my cheeks heat. I thought being praised in front of a crowd was uncomfortable; turns out that’s nothing compared to having to sit here while my dirty laundry is aired out to an avid audience.

Vincent continues. “Evidence indicates Selene was framed, which means the true killer is still out there, likely still hunting witches. This is all happening in our backyard. It’s important to me—to many of us—that those supernaturals who put their lives at risk to protect our pack mates are extended our protection, especially at a time like this, when their own kind are under threat.”

The Marin Pack alpha turns to me, and I think this might be it—Vincent will announce the pack’s friendship and the meeting will be over. I might even be able to scurry back to Henbane before curfew.

Instead, he says, “Selene, we would love to hear what you have to share about the night you saved Cara. Would you be willing to tell us about what happened?”

Right. Shit. Sitting up here and staring out at the crowd, I nearly forgot that this was the main thing they wanted to hear about from me.

“Of course.” I take a deep breath, collecting my thoughts, but Vincent holds up a finger.

“One moment, Selene.” He steps over to the massive, unlit fireplace behind me and grabs a vial resting on the mantel. A moment later, he shows it to me.

My stomach drops the moment I see the shimmery green liquid.

“This is a truth potion,” Vincent says, telling me what I already know. “Would you be willing to drink this before answering our questions?”

I hesitate.

They don’t trust witches, I tell myself, but they want to pledge their loyalty to me. I simply have to prove I’m worthy of it. But if I drink the potion, I will be compelled to tell the truth. I don’t have too many secrets, but Memnon’s warning still echoes in my head.

Don’t share what we’ve been talking about with anyone else.

I bite my inner cheek and nod. “I’ll drink it,” I say, taking the potion from the pack alpha.

I’ll just have to watch what I say.

Removing the cork, I bring the vial to my lips and tip it back.

It tastes like shit. Well, shit and rotten apples. I think someone attempted to flavor it as an afterthought, but they clearly sucked at it.

Almost immediately, I feel the press of magic; it coats my tongue like syrup, and as it makes its way down my throat, I feel it tug on my vocal cords. I grimace as the aftertaste lingers on my tongue.

Vincent steps forward and takes the empty container from me. I see him flinch a little as he catches a whiff of the stuff.

“Thank you,” he says quietly. Louder, he says, “Can you tell us everything you remember about the night you saved Cara?”

I squeeze my hands together and take a deep breath. “It began because I needed a job…”

I tell the lycanthropes the entire story as best as I can. And the truth serum must be strong, because even though they only asked about the night itself, I fill them in on everything—my memory loss, how I was approached by Kasey, and why I needed the money so bad.

I mention the clay creature that brought Cara in and the dark rites that I interrupted when I broke the circle and snatched the shifter away. I go into the minutiae of our escape through the persecution tunnels and out across the forest. I even admit my worry that I killed someone in the cross fire.

It’s a shameful confession, but no one in the room looks horrified. If anything, I see a level of respect from the faces I look at. I guess to lycans, who value pack loyalty and whose wolves drive them to kill creatures all the time, taking a life to protect another is the ultimate show of devotion.

I end with the dim recollection of the lycanthrope who collected Cara from me as I wove in and out of consciousness.

When I finish speaking, the room is quiet. My own magic sifts out through my palms, curling protectively around my midsection and over my shoulders. I feel split open in the worst way.

Finally, a soft, feminine voice says, “We thank you.”

Another, gruffer voice adds, “We thank you.”

Then another voice and another and another, until the whole room seems to be thanking me.

I glance at Cara, whose cheeks are wet. She gives me a soft smile, and I see her lips move. We thank you.

I bow my head as my own eyes prick. I’ve done so many things wrong and earned so much ire along the way that the compliments are unexpected and deeply moving.

Once it grows quiet again, someone else speaks up.

“You carried Cara the entire way,” a female shifter says, sounding impressed. Her eyes slide over me. “And you did this without the strength of a shifter.”

“I did use magic,” I say.

“You must be very powerful.”

I cringe at the word. “I had help,” I deflect.

“Help?” someone else from the crowd says. There’s a note of skepticism there.

Shit.

There was one single thing I hadn’t mentioned during my conversation. Memnon. Trying to explain the ancient warlord would only complicate things, so I omitted him.

Or I tried to at least.

“I…have a soul mate,” I confess. “We can share power through a bond we were born with. The night I fled with Cara he sensed I was in danger, and he gave me some of his magic.”

The room is deathly quiet.

“Who is this man?” a deep, rumbling voice questions, and they sound distrustful.

I guess I get it. The Marin Pack extended friendship to me, but if I have a soul mate, that relationship could affect this friendship pact.

“He’s…” Ah. How to put this without freaking everyone out? “A sorcerer.”

All at once, murmuring breaks out. Sorcerers aren’t exactly known for their shiny reputations. There are whole dynasties of them scattered throughout the world, and the more powerful they are, the more dangerous they tend to be.

“He’s the one who came and took care of me after I delivered Cara to your pack.” I don’t know why I’m trying to defend the man. He’s smeared his own good name. But I also don’t think of him the same way I do most other sorcerers.

Maybe because villain or not, he’s mine. And maybe because once upon a time, he gave me the whole world.

“Do you trust him?” someone else asks.

He had my absolute loyalty when I was Roxilana, but as Selene, he’s fucked me over a few times.

I don’t know what the truth potion is going to pull from my lips until I speak. “He’s loyal to no one but me.”

Kane’s voice cuts through the room. “Tell them how.”

I glance sharply at the shifter. At my friend.

His expression is stern and unbending. “Tell them how you’ve made him loyal to you. They deserve to know what you confessed to me last night.”

Again, there are a few scattered murmurs from around the room.

Kane set me up for this.

My heart pounds harder as the truth serum is pulling at my windpipe, readying its own sort of answer.

The forged bond between Memnon and me is the one thing I really, really don’t want to share. The more people who know about it, the more people might exploit it.

I will have to butcher a lot more people to keep them from coming after you.

My hands begin to tremble. “He is bound by magic to serve me.”

There are a few scattered gasps, and I hear a low growl start up, one that seems to catch and spread across the room.

“The same way Cara was nearly bound to another?” someone asks.

“No.” The serum permits the answer because the context matters. “Memnon offered to bind himself to me to earn back my trust. It is not a forced bond between us but a forged one.”

“Why would a man who is already your mate do such a thing?”

At the word mate, I see Kane glance down.

I assess the rest of the room, wondering if the truth serum will be enough for them to believe my next words.

“Memnon isn’t just any sorcerer.” The words come out tentatively. “He’s an ancient one who happens to be my long-lost soul mate. There’s lots of complicated details that I could overshare about that situation, but basically for the last couple months, he believed I betrayed him, so as revenge, he framed me for the murders of the witches found on Henbane’s campus. When he discovered I didn’t betray him, he offered the bond as a type of”—I search for the right word—“restitution.”