Enchantment Read Free Page A

witch in living memory and as I said, there were only three warlocks who could possibly match her.”
    “You, Malachai, and her brother.”
    “Yes. And her brother was obviously not an option. The Order was pressing her to choose Malachai. They wanted to keep her powers in their control. But choosing is not something you can direct, there’s magic involved, moon magic, and she hated Malachai. They had grown up together, he and Jarrod were friends, but she had never liked him—he was not a lover of women and didn’t attempt to hide that fact.” He smiled. “He tried to tell Cass it was her duty to choose him—she laughed in his face.”
    “What was he like?”
    “Even back then there was a darkness to him, he hid it well, but I could see it lurking behind his eyes. But it wouldn’t have mattered if she hadn’t hated him. She’d taken one look at me and it was over. Her very first words to me were—I choose you.”
    “And you—did you feel the same?”
    “It was love at first sight. I was two hundred years old, and I thought I would never be chosen, and just like that, it was done.
    We kept it secret for a while, but they were pushing her to choose.
    The mark appeared on her cheek.” He reached out and pressed his fingertip to the sickle moon that marred Shayla’s own cheek, and a tingle of magic ran through her. “They knew she was even more powerful than they’d thought, and they were afraid.
    “Cass defied them all. We held the choosing ceremony and never thought they would dare do anything, but they waited until she was away, and they came for me at night and killed me.” Shock ran through her. “You were dead?” He nodded. “I was gone, crossed over. I don’t know what happened, but I presume Cass attempted some sort of spell to draw me back. But she failed, and I only came so far. I woke here in a land of nothingness. Slowly I started to form a world. I forged myself a staff and gradually the spells came back to me, though my magic was weak.” He lifted the staff, which lay at his side.
    “Pretty useless.” It was a frail thing, insubstantial, fashioned from shadows.
    Shayla knew a warlock needed his staff. Perhaps she could do something to repay his kindness. Squeezing out another drop of blood, she opened her mind, and a song filled her throat, spilling from her lips. At her feet, a small tree sprang up. Rowan—the tree of power.
    “For a new staff,” she murmured.
    She hummed beneath her breath, and as they watched, the tree grew, the branches spreading a canopy above their heads. A sense of peace infused her being—how could anyone believe this was wrong? They sat in silence for long minutes, while she thought over his story.
    “So you’ve been here alone for a thousand years?” He dragged his gaze from the tree. “I have, but now you have come back to me.” Shayla examined his face. His beautiful eyes were calm; the madness that had filled them in the first few days here had vanished. Did he really believe she was Casterix, returned to him? Could it be true? She searched her mind but hit that same blank wall. She tried to open herself to the truth, but after a minute, she groaned in frustration.
    “I remember nothing.” Though it wasn’t entirely true. She could picture the skies above Arroway, but couldn’t remember a time she had stood beneath them. She knew the Order existed but as an abstract not as something which had ever effected her.
    Who was she? It couldn’t be mere coincidence that she was here with this man. She didn’t believe in coincidence, and she bore the mark of his lost love. His lost love who had once nearly destroyed the whole world and then vanished.
    Wait. He hadn’t told her that. How did she know? Was the past coming back to her? “Callum, did you know who you were and what had happened when you awoke here?”
    “No. When I first came to, I remembered nothing. It was years before the memories trickled back. Years of wandering in nothingness.”