Ruler [Blood Magic, Book 3]

Chapter 48: The Blessings of the Father

"Sit down, Mildred," my father said, as he guided me through his suite to a desk with two brown leather chairs arranged to face it. I sat down in one of them. It was hard, unyielding and uncomfortable, probably much like the conversation we were about to have.

We'd just wrapped our final bond magic session of the week and Ephraim had ushered me downstairs immediately after. It was the first time I'd been back to Keel's old room since I'd moved out months earlier and it had been utterly transformed, rendered unrecognizable from the space it had been when I'd lived there. A series of thick curtains and simple, polished wooden panels now divided the room in two to create a private area for Bruce. That part encompassed the gym and the vicinity around it. The rest of the space had been taken over by Ephraim and countless books, vials, herbs, concoctions, stones and gems. The true workroom of a sorcerer, he'd explained as we entered, though until now he'd always preferred to keep it separate from his residence, for security reasons. But even that old logic had been turned upside down now. There was regret in his voice and I realized I had no idea what he'd lost in coming to live with the Nosferatu; we'd never reached that level of familiarity with each other.

Ephraim rounded the desk and took his seat, shifting the conversation into more formal territory. "I've been working with the king and you for several weeks," he started, "long enough to know there's something you two aren't telling me."

I'd suspected this was coming, for the last half dozen days my father had been studying our interactions more than the spells we were working. The frown on his lips had been near constant.

"I can't properly advise you if I don't know all the elements at play," he said.

I looked past him at the room, wishing Keel was here to give me some reassurance, if not do the talking. "Why don't you ask His Majesty?"

"I did. He told me to talk to you."

I bristled. Of course he did. "Because you'd kill him on the spot," I muttered.

"I highly doubt that, Mildred. I'm not here to bring chaos to this enclave."

"That, I don't believe," I said, taking in the sparse objects that sat on top of his desk - three fountain pens, one notebook and one desk calendar, but everything written on it appeared to be in some kind of code. I hadn't met his eyes since I'd sat down. Didn't know how to meet them now. He'd done nothing but created turmoil since his arrival, couldn't he see that?

"Is this about your relationship with the king?" he continued.

My cheeks grew warm. "No. Yes. Not like you think." It came out in an awkward jumble.

My father shifted in his seat. "How do I think? My thinking has changed substantially since a year ago. And it's had to change again since he put his mark on you." My hand moved up to graze the fabric of my shirt, beneath which lay Keel's scars. "Does he use it to make you-?"

"No!" I wasn't sure where Ephraim was going with that question, and had no intention of finding out. It was strange how I seemed to have no problem thinking of Keel as a monster, but got defensive as all hell when anyone else went there. "It's not-" I stopped and searched for the right words, the ones that wouldn't enrage him and send him storming upstairs to enrage the king. "You know how you've been teaching me that sorcery is not just blood, it can also be herbs and crystals and rituals and intent and all of that." I was rambling now and needed to stop. "I was wondering, are there other types, that like collusive magic, you know, require, ummm, specific intimacies?" I was pretty sure there was no part of my face that wasn't bright red.

"What have you been experimenting with?" Ephraim's tone grew stern.

"Nothing!"

He frowned and wound his fingers together. I could tell he didn't believe me.