Embrace the Magic (The Blood Rose 2)

Vojalie’s eyes were bright, expectant. He realized suddenly that the fae leader held high hopes for Samantha, but he wasn’t sure she understood the level of Samantha’s resistance to remaining in the Nine Realms.

The area was about fifteen feet in diameter, not a large space, and laid out in two shades of tile, all sustaining the circular pattern. In the very center, was a smaller circle of red tile about three feet across. A rough, gray stone pillar sat off to the side and held some sort of shallow stone bowl.

At first, he thought Vojalie would add water, a sort of purification ceremony. Instead, she added several twigs and using a long match, struck on the side of the stone, lit them.

A bitter scent, like oak leaves burning, permeated the space.

Samantha, apparently sensing something, moved close and using her cupped hands, brought the smoke toward her. Slowly her neck arched. Vojalie appeared solemn and gestured for Ethan to get close to the stone bowl as well.

The fragrance eased him, but as he glanced at Samantha, he saw ecstasy on her face as she breathed in the ancient scent.

“How could my mother have ever left Bergisson and all these experiences? I feel connected to the Guildhall as though the community pulses in every beat of my heart.” She opened her eyes and glanced from him to Vojalie, then back. “I can feel you both, your strength, your confidence, your boldness. You’re very much alike.”

He met Vojalie’s smiling eyes. “I always suspected as much,” he said. “You’ve got a warrior’s heart.”

Vojalie nodded. “I fight for the realm-world, just like you, but not with a blade or the palm-energy you can create.”

Samantha addressed Vojalie. “Why did my mother leave? I mean, what did you see from your perspective?”

Vojalie appeared suddenly very sad. “The death of her husband took a toll and she became increasingly unsettled, beyond the effects of her grief. There were times I even thought…” but she broke off, her fingers pressed to her lips.

“What?” Ethan asked.

Vojalie took several shallow breaths as though struggling with what she wanted to say. “I’ve never said this to anyone, but recently I’ve begun to wonder if some force interfered with her.”

“You mean like this rogue fae entity that seems to be present, but which we can’t pin down?”

Vojalie met and held Ethan’s gaze. “Yes, that’s what I’ve thought, for a very long time. What if the same magic that has ruined Sweet Gorge also got to Andrea, pushing her out of Bergisson?”

Ethan felt as though he’d been struck hard. His chin even lifted, arching his neck, as though he’d taken a blow. “But that would mean she wouldn’t have been responsible for what happened at the gorge forty years ago?”

Vojalie’s complexion turned pink as her anger rushed at him like a hot wind. “A fae who has a vision cannot be held responsible for what happens in the future. You’ve blamed Andrea these past four decades, and you were wrong to do so.”

Ethan scowled. “She saw a vision of the massacre at the gorge, but instead of letting me know, or anyone else who could have made a difference, she packed her bags and stole off illegally to Shreveport. My family died that night and one word of warning from Andrea could have saved them.” A cold, bitter sensation worked within his heart, burrowing deep. If Andrea were here today, he’d accuse her of misconduct and he’d see her tried in one of the fae-courts.

Of course, he would have fought the Fae Guild the entire way, but he never had a chance to bring her to justice. She was gone for ten years before anyone knew she’d settled in Shreveport and remarried. By then it was too late to bring her back; she was under the protection of a foreign government, married to a human.

“You don’t know whether she had a vision of the massacre or not. None of us do.”

“She communicated with my Guard all the time. We always had warnings from her if something big was going down. Why would this have been any different?”

“You really do blame my mother.”

Ethan met her gaze, her unusual, light blue eyes. For just a moment, she wasn’t his blood rose, but something else, the daughter of the woman he blamed for the death of his family. And here was another reason why he didn’t want to do long-term with her. “I’ve never said this to Vojalie, but I’m going to say it to both of you now. Quinlan saw Andrea about twenty years ago, when you would have been a child, but by which time it was legal for realm-folk to travel into the access towns, like Shreveport.

“He’d sought her out, having known her even longer than I had. They’d shared meal, and a couple of bottles of wine. She’d broken down and confessed that she could have prevented the attack at Sweet Gorge, that she’d had a vision earlier that day.”

Samantha’s head shifted back and forth. He felt her disbelief. “But, why didn’t she let someone know? What prevented her?”

“No one really knows. Quinlan said she was wracked with guilt, so there you are.”

Now Andrea’s daughter stood staring at him, a deep frown between her brows, her intense light eyes cloaked with concern and maybe even the despair that her mother had been at fault. “What if I’m the same way? What if I can’t take the visions either? Will you blame me if something goes wrong, if some vision of mine misfires or if I don’t report it in time?”

“She’s asking the right questions, Ethan.” Vojalie had the same worried crease between her brows.

“I already know the answer.” He shifted his gaze to Samantha. “No matter what, you have to do your duty, do what’s right.”

“You’re saying my mother didn’t.”

“Exactly.”

“Harsh words, Ethan.” Vojalie spoke stridently. “You saw her that last year. She’d lost so much weight. Something was wrong, something beyond our understanding.”

“So, you’re holding to your theory?”

“All I know is that the woman who left Shreveport didn’t resemble the woman I’d known her entire life.”

Ethan turned away from both women. Forty years had passed and still the wound bled. He needed to get beyond it, beyond what he’d witnessed that day, but how? And how the hell was he supposed to work with the daughter of the woman he blamed for the deaths of his mother, father and younger sister?

He felt a hand on his shoulder as Samantha’s voice entered his mind. Ethan, I’m sorry for what happened all those years ago, but I can’t answer for my mother’s sins. However, I can promise that I’ll do my best not to let any personal failings I have come between this gift that’s emerging in me and the attending duty to help Bergisson. For now, let’s focus on my issues because I think there’s something here, something that can be of use to you.