“A few times, but not with Tofi.”
“Shhhh!” Tofi hissed and put a finger to his lips as Ewan and Ieduin joined hands in front of Tofi. “Now that the circle is forged, it cannot be unbroken. What is born inside the sacred circle will multiply threefold and shall be attracted. Focus not on negative emotions. No anxiety. No fear. No sadness. Reflect instead on those you have lost. Allow your mind to conjure them as if they were here before you.”
The mage made a series of complicated motions with his hands before flame sprang out of the bowl. It leapt high and then died. Tofi immediately took up a black feather and began fanning the smoke.
“Close your eyes!” Tofi whispered as thunder roared. The rain picked up, striking the glass roof louder. “Focus!”
All around the table, eyes closed. Rowan, too, closed his eyes and tried to focus on conjuring an image of his father. Where had they sat in the library? Over by the fireplace because it was cold. His father would sit in the big chair, his feet toward the fire. His feet were always so cold in the winter. Rowan would stretch out there with a book and read while his father dozed, or just watched the fire, or listened.
What had his face looked like? Rowan had been told often that he looked like his father, but there were so many differences. Why couldn’t he remember them all? Why couldn’t he remember the shape of his chin, or his eyes, or the sound of his voice? There was only the image of his pale, stiff face in the flickering torchlight as they laid him to rest in the Dagh Cairn. He’d looked so old then, so unreal, as if he were made of painted wood.
Wood, like the wooden rafters Ambra had hung herself from. If he listened, he could hear it creaking under her weight, her limp body swinging slightly in some breeze the living couldn’t feel.
No, don’t think of her. Don’t think of that. Anything but that!But now that he had started, he couldn’t stop himself. That image was much fresher in his mind, rawer, more real.
He could remember her face, pale and lifeless, the ring of bruises stark against the pallor of death gripping her neck, her eyes, empty and glassy, as if she’d been crying, her mouth open, screaming in silence.
Rowan was vaguely aware of Ieduin tightening his grip, of Tofi speaking, but he was too caught up in the sudden chill of the room. His eyes snapped open, and he beheld the towering column of gray smoke dancing, twirling, shifting, alive as the fog over the moors that morning. The smoke curled, and Rowan shuddered as he swore he saw a face take shape.
“Someone is here,” Tofi whispered. “Make your presence known!”
The flames on the candles flared higher before going out with a sigh. The darkness pulsed, becoming a living thing that flexed against the smoke.
“Speak!” Tofi commanded, and then gasped so loudly, Rixxis tightened her grip on Rowan’s hand. The mage slumped forward as if he were an empty puppet held up by invisible strings. There was a long, tense beat of silence before a strange groan crawled out of his throat.
Tofi’s hand shot forward, landing with fingers clawed against the table, his chest heaving with breath. He lifted his head, his eyes the cloudy, empty white of a corpse. “Da?” The voice that came out of Tofi was not his own, but higher, feminine, panicked. He looked around, breathing quickly. “Da, where are you? It’s so dark, and I’m so cold…”
Ewan’s eyes widened as he recognized his daughter’s voice. “What in the Eight Divines…”
“Da? Da! I can’t see you! Why can’t I see you?”
“Stop.” The word escaped Rowan in a whisper. “Please, stop!”
Tofi’s head jerked toward Rowan. “Sir?”
Rowan closed his eyes, wincing.
Tofi threw himself on the table with such a loud thud, Rixxis let out a surprised gasp. He crawled quickly over the table, stopping in front of Rowan. The air chilled as the necromancer tilted his head, considering him with unblinking, empty eyes. He opened his mouth, and a slew of disembodied sounds came out all at once. There was the familiar sound of fireworks exploding, Ambra’s laughter, voices and conversation lost to the tides of time.
“Happy birthday, Ambra!” came Rowan’s voice out of Tofi’s mouth.
“Will you let me stay with you?” Ambra asked. “Just this once.”
“You know I can’t. That’s against the rules.”
“Please, Rowan. Just this once. I’ll be a good girl, I promise.”
“You’ll misbehave and we both know it. Now, go on to bed like a good girl. We have an early morning tomorrow.”
“Rowan?” she said after a moment’s hesitation.
Rowan closed his eyes, his chest hollow because he knew what she was about to say. The last words she’d ever said to him, the ones that should have told him something wasn’t right. Her last plea for him to do something, say something, to save her.
But he couldn’t stop the scene from replaying on Tofi’s vocal cords.
“What is it, pet?” He’d asked.
“I love you,” Ambra said.