The Enchanter Heir Read Free Page B

that they could source any botanicals they needed without the risk of anyone coming after them in Brazil. Their expertise could be the key to freeing ourselves from the underguild tyrants in Trinity.”
    “No doubt,” DeVries said. “After all, the Thorn Hill conspiracy was a smashing success—or would have been, if they hadn’t managed to poison themselves.”
    “Fine,” Longbranch flared. “Moss and her cohorts can go right on killing wizards until we are extinct.”
    “What’s the count now?” Wylie asked.
    DeVries shifted his gaze to Wylie. “Fifty-seven dead,” he said. “And I understand that some from the underguilds have been killed as well.”
    “Red herrings, no doubt,” Wylie said. “To obscure the real culprits.”
    “Maybe,” DeVries said, as if he didn’t care, one way or the other.
    “Are there truly no clues at all?” Wylie asked.
    “Some of the bodies don’t have a mark on them. Others have been found—to be blunt—dismembered. The commonalities are that their Weirstones are destroyed, their magic drained, and all of the bodies have dead flowers scattered over them.”
    “Roses?” Longbranch guessed.
    DeVries shook his head. “Nightshade.”
    Nightshade? Jonah’s hand crept inside his neckline, to his Nightshade pendant, brushed over the engraved design. Really? Was it possible that someone from Nightshade was moonlighting? Somebody besides him?
    “Any updates on the Interguild Council investigation?” SWylie asked.
    “Don’t look for any help from them ,” DeVries said bitterly. “Some on Council are probably responsible for the killings; the rest merely celebrate them. Madison Moss has to be involved. Wizards just aren’t that easy to kill.”
    “That’s exactly why we need to take matters into our own hands,” Longbranch said. “The survivors of Thorn Hill represent the greatest reservoir of knowledge about materials magic and Weirstones that exists.”
    “Existed,” DeVries said.
    “Don’t you see?” Longbranch continued undeterred. “What if we could modify Weirstones so that they no longer require the connection to the Dragonheart in order to function? Failing that, if we could determine exactly what agent got into the water supply at Thorn Hill—”
    “Why? Are you planning some kind of mass murder, now that we’re finally at peace?” DeVries said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “Look, investigating Thorn Hill seemed like a good idea,” he said, as if Longbranch had crocheted an especially clever potholder at the old folks’ home. “But we’ve no way to pursue it if there aren’t any records, and if everybody who knew anything is dead.”
    “The healer survived. There must be others,” Longbranch said. “More who left before the disaster.” She paused. “Perhaps some of them are working for you.”
    “Working for me?” DeVries said, his eyes narrowing. “Do go on.”
    Wylie and Longbranch exchanged glances, as if negotiating the next move.
    “We’re well aware of your expertise in poisons and toxins,” Wylie said, trying for charm, and failing. “You were brought up in the business, after all. And isn’t it true that your
    father was murdered by some in the underguilds who blamed him for this so-called Thorn Hill Massacre?”
    “I have no idea who murdered my father,” DeVries said, clearly not seeking a heart-to-heart with Wylie. “He was a successful businessman, and successful businessmen attract enemies. Those were violent times, if you recall. As for poison, that’s a sorcerer’s weapon. Wizards have other options.”
    “I’ve heard rumors that the Black Rose is back,” Wylie persisted, “that it’s resurfaced in response to the recent killings. We thought, perhaps, that you—er, the Black Rose—might have recruited some Thorn Hill survivors to—”
    “Shut up, Wylie,” Longbranch said, glaring at him. “We don’t want to imply that young DeVries here is in any way involved with assassinations and the