“You bring them here, flaunt them in our faces, as if they’ll help us. Do you know what that does to us? To those of us whom she made?” She gestured at me, her hand flung wildly. “It feels like a betrayal.”
“She made me, too. But that does not negate her bad acts. And that wasn’t an apology.”
Irina’s eyes silvered and her fangs descended. She put a hand on the handle of her katana. She was ready to fight. And if the look in her eyes was any indication, she was aching for it. “I will not apologize to them, or to you.”
The Masters stayed seated, but their bodies went on sudden alert. Sharper gazes, squarer shoulders, just in case action was necessary.
“You do not want to start a fight with me, Novitiate,” Morgan said. And he didn’t just use words to convince her. Glamour flowed through his words, through the room, streaming like water across a dry creek bed.
It overwhelmed me.
The sensation of fluid magic, of intrusive magic, raised a cold sweat on my arms, down my spine. I put my hands flat on the tabletop, trying to focus on the cold of the glass to distract me from the memory of Balthasar. I tried to breathe through pursed lips, slowly in and out, just as Ethan had shown me.
The magic wasn’t even directed at me, but it affected me as if I’d been targeted by a maelstrom. Was this what my life would be like from now on? No longer immune to glamour, but unable to be in the same room with it, even if it wasn’t directed at me? I’d be a magical creature that couldn’t stand magic.
Just keep breathing, Sentinel. I’m right here.
I glanced up at Ethan, and his expression was utterly calm.
It’s his magic. It moves—it feels like it’s going right through me.
Your body is new to glamour, so you’re sensitive to it. Be still and breathe, he said, his voice soothing even psychically. You’re feeling anxious, and it’s normal. The distress will pass. I promise you that.
I had to keep it together. Had to stay calm, had to hide this reaction. There were too many enemies around us, too many threats toward Ethan.
The others—, I began.
Can’t tell you’re fighting it, Ethan said. You’re doing fine. Keep breathing. And when we get back to the House, talk to Lindsey. She’ll help you with techniques.
I nodded infinitesimally, kept breathing. Watched as two vampires rushed into the room in black shirts and cargo pants, swords unsheathed.
“Sire,” the guards said, hurrying to Irina with swords pointed, so it seemed we weren’t about to witness a coup d’etat on top of the dissolution of the House’s senior staff.
“She’s threatened mutiny, insulted our guests, and refused to obey orders.” He gestured vaguely at us. “They can verify if need be.”
It occurred to me that Morgan had wanted us there—in the House, in the room—because he suspected, or hoped, Irina would cause a scene and he’d have to act. We were his witnesses. We could verify that she’d been disruptive, and that whatever punishment he doled out to her—and to Celina’s faction—would be justified.
Maybe he was cannier than I’d given him credit for.
“Take her to her room. Stand guard until I get there.”
Their hands on her arms, Irina nailed Morgan with a glare. “We’ll take the House back, one way or the other.”
“In that case,” he said, “I look forward to the challenge.”
I thought that was true. But I still wasn’t certain he wanted to win it.
Chapter Sixteen
BECAUSE THE NIGHT
It was a full ten minutes before the room was clear and calm, before the magic dissipated like clouds after a deluge.
“I’m sorry you had to see that,” Morgan said, at a bar tucked into a cabinet, where he’d poured himself two fingers of amber liquid, drained it in an equal number of drinks. That Irina had sent me out of the room for a bottle of water made me dislike her a little more.
“Are you?” Ethan asked. “Or are you glad you had witnesses?” He’d also apparently guessed it wasn’t a coincidence Morgan picked that moment to bait Irina.
“Let’s say both.” Morgan came back to the table. “She wanted to air her grievances, and I wanted evidence of her insubordination. Two birds, one stone. And a House that’s falling apart.”