Dark Heart of Magic (11 page)

“How does making his own daughter feel terrible benefit him?”

Claudia pulled off her glasses and set them aside. “I have never claimed to understand the inner workings of Victor Draconi's twisted mind. The only answer I can give you is that he has a dark heart, which you've seen for yourself.”

I still remembered the icy knives of his hate ripping into my chest. Even now, the phantom sensation made me shiver—and made me more determined than ever to figure out what he was up to.

“You know, I haven't been getting anywhere doing things your way.”

“What do you mean?”

I shrugged. “Talking to people and using my soulsight on them is all well and good, but I can't actually read minds, you know—just emotions. And emotions can mean a lot of different things. So I was thinking that I might try a more direct approach to get the lowdown on what Victor and Blake are up to.”

Claudia arched an eyebrow. “Meaning what, exactly?”

“Meaning that I was planning to mosey on over to the Draconi compound and do a little spying,” I said. “If that meets with her majesty's approval.”

At my snarky tone, Claudia arched her other eyebrow so that she had a matching set. She didn't like me calling her
her majesty
, but that's what she was—the Sinclair Family queen.

She picked up her glasses and
tap-tap-tapped
them on top of the papers on her desk. Emotions flared in her eyes one after another: curiosity, concern, hope, guilt. Despite her cool exterior, Claudia really did care about me in her own way. She didn't like the thought of my spying on Victor, especially since she knew what the consequences would be if I got caught—and that my death wouldn't be the worst of it.

But it was a risk I was willing to take. I'd do anything to make Victor pay for murdering my mom, and so would Claudia.

Her face hardened, and she laid her glasses down on the desk. “Do you really think that you can slip into the Draconi compound? Without getting caught?”

She might not like putting me in danger, but she was willing to do it if it meant finding information that could derail Victor's scheme or at least help protect the Sinclairs. I admired her for that—for her ability to make those kinds of hard choices—although I would never tell her so.

“You're talking to Lila Merriweather, remember? Thief extraordinaire.” I gave an elegant, elaborate flourish of my hand and bowed low.

Claudia huffed. “Perhaps instead of asking whether you'll get caught, I should be asking whether you can keep your ego in check long enough to get over there and back again. Or will you be too busy patting yourself on the back the whole time?”

I tapped my finger against my lips, pretending to consider her question. “I don't know. My ego really likes being a badass thief—gives me the warm and fuzzies inside.”

Claudia raised her eyes skyward, as if asking what she'd ever done to get stuck with me. “If Serena hadn't been my best friend and I hadn't sworn to watch out for you. . . .”

“I know, I know, you'd tan my hide and send me to bed with no supper.”

She sniffed. “For starters.”

I grinned. “Then aren't you glad that you made that promise to my mom all those years ago? You don't have to worry about any hide tanning or worse, depriving me of food. Face it. You're stuck with me, toots. Like a bad rash you can't get rid of.”

“Lucky me.” Her voice was as cool as mine was cheery.

I winked at her. For a moment, Claudia's lips quirked up in what almost looked like a smile; then her face turned serious again.

“When were you thinking about doing this?”

“Tonight. The Draconi guards will be distracted, thinking about the tournament instead of keeping as good a watch as they should. And maybe I can find out something about who cut the rope ladder, if Blake or one of the other Draconis was behind it.”

“All right—do it. We're running out of time. Victor might not do anything during the tournament, but I wouldn't put it past him to strike the second it's over.” Claudia hesitated. “But be careful. Because if the Draconis catch you. . . .”

Her voice trailed off, and her jaw clenched. It was best for both of us not to think about how Victor would torture me before he ripped out my magic, killing me in the process.

“I'll be careful.” I crossed my finger over my heart in a large X. “Promise.”

Claudia nodded, then slid her glasses back on and started reading through her papers again. I headed out of the library, making a mental list of the things I would need to infiltrate the Draconi compound. Just before I reached the double doors, she spoke again.

“Good luck,” she called out.

“That's the second time in two days you've said that to me,” I said, looking over my shoulder.

“I think you're going to need it.”

“Yeah. Me too.”

I nodded at her, then pulled open one of the doors and left the library.

I
went to my room, took a shower, and hung out with Oscar and Tiny for a while before going down to dinner in the dining hall. Of course, all anyone wanted to talk about was what had happened at the tournament, and I once again found myself the center of attention, as a steady stream of folks dropped by the table where I was sitting with Devon and Felix.

“Are you guys okay?”

“How's Henry?”

“It was so amazing the way Devon caught you before you fell!”

The questions and comments went on and on. I stayed quiet and let Devon and Felix do most of the talking. After all, they were the ones who deserved the glory, Devon for grabbing me and Felix for helping to heal Henry.

But the curious looks and constant talking, smiling, and nodding politely got to be too much, so I downed the rest of my lemonade, grabbed my glass and plate, and headed over to the buffet for some refills.

The pixies had set out another delectable spread of sandwiches and summer salads, along with fresh fruit and several different kinds of cookies. I poured myself some more lemonade, then grabbed three chocolate chip cookies, along with some strawberries to take back up to my room to Tiny.

“I see you're looking no worse for wear,” a voice called out. “Especially not when it comes to your appetite.”

Vance swaggered up to the table, elbowed me out of the way, and started heaping triangles of toasted club sandwiches onto his plate. “Got to get some of these beauties before you steal them all.”

My hand tightened around my plate, but I didn't respond, and Vance glanced over at me.

“What's the matter? Monster got your tongue?” He clucked his own tongue, mocking me. “Then again, I suppose you did have a scare today. Maybe next time you won't be so lucky, Lila.”

My eyes narrowed. “Is that a threat?”

He dropped his gaze and grabbed another sandwich off the tray, so I couldn't use my soulsight to see what he was really feeling.

“Nah,” Vance finally said. “I'm going to win the tournament, and that's all there is to it. In a couple of days, everybody will be gathered around
my
table. Not yours. So enjoy the attention while it lasts.”

He smirked again, shouldered past me, and went back over to where his friends were sitting. Vance took a seat, smiling, joking, and laughing with the other guards.

But my feet felt glued to the floor, and all I could do was stand there, frozen in place, wondering if there had been a far more sinister meaning to Vance's words than what he'd actually said.

 

I wasn't hungry anymore, and Devon and Felix were still busy talking, so I slipped out of the dining hall and went up to my room.

Oscar was still eating and gossiping with everyone else, so he wasn't around to see me get ready for my night of skulking, much less ask awkward questions about where I was going and what I was doing. Tiny was in his corral, but the tortoise wasn't going to tell anyone anything, especially since I dropped several strawberries onto the grass in front of him. Tiny nodded his green head in approval at my buying his silence, lumbered over to the berries, and started eating them.

Oscar had insisted that I wear nice clothes to dinner again, but I stripped them off in favor of a pale blue T-shirt, gray cargo pants, and gray sneakers. The soft, muted colors would be perfect for blending in with the shadows. My hair was already in its usual ponytail, with my chopstick lock picks stuck through it, so I moved on to the next things I needed.

Weapons.

I buckled my sword and scabbard to my black leather belt, which was studded with three stars. At first glance, the metal pieces looked like pretty decorations, but they were actually throwing stars made out of the same bloodiron as my sword. If things went according to plan, no one would see me enter or leave the Draconi compound, but I wanted to be prepared in case I had to fight my way out.

I also grabbed a long, sapphire-blue trench coat from where it was hanging on one of the knobs on the four-poster bed. The spidersilk coat had belonged to my mom, along with the ironmesh gloves sticking out of one of the pockets. Despite its rich, vibrant color, the coat would also help me blend into the shadows, since spidersilk had the unusual property of melting into the landscape around it—sort of like the way people walked straight into spider webs without even realizing they were there.

I stuck my hands into the coat pockets, making sure I had the rest of my usual supplies, which included dark chocolate bars, several quarters, and a couple of locks of my own black hair tied up with different colored ribbons. Just in case I ran into some monsters and had to pay a toll or two. It would be rather humiliating to make it in and out of the Draconi compound undetected, only to get eaten by a copper crusher or some other creature on the way home.

When I was fully attired for the night, I opened one of the doors, stepped out onto the balcony, and looked out over the stone wall. It was after eight now, and the long summer day was finally dimming to a twilight dusk that would soon give way to full night. Down in the valley far, far below, the neon lights of the Midway formed a solid circle, with the shopping squares branching off in all directions, like the carts on a Ferris wheel. The lights flared, flickered, and flashed in every color of the rainbow, gleaming like a carpet of electrified jewels that had been scattered in the middle of the dark, rugged mountains.

I pulled on my ironmesh gloves, then took hold of the drainpipe attached to one side of the balcony. The drainpipe was part of the stone of the mansion, so I didn't have to worry about it coming loose from the wall, unlike the tournament rope ladder. So I stepped out into the open air and let myself free-fall, enjoying the rush of the wind against my body. Sure, I could have used the stairs that snaked from one level of the mansion to the other, but this was faster—and
way
more fun. It was so much fun that I laughed, although the wind tore the soft, happy sound away from my lips and sent it spinning up into the humid night air.

Just before I hit the ground, I tightened my grip on the drainpipe, causing a bit of smoke to waft up from my gloves. Ironmesh was another special metal, one that was thin, flexible, and protective all at the same time. If I'd tried to free-fall down the drainpipe with my bare hands, I would have burned and bloodied my palms, at the very least, or laid them open to the bone, at the very worst. But the inherent grip in the ironmesh would help me climb up or slide down practically any surface, including this glass-smooth stone.

Once my sneakers touched the ground, I slid into the nearest shadow and dropped into a crouch, studying the landscape. Most everyone was still in the dining hall, but a few guards patrolled the grounds, like always. But I'd spent the last four years being as invisible as possible, so it was easy for me to wait until the guards' backs were turned, sprint across the lawn, and disappear into the surrounding trees.

I moved deeper and deeper into the woods, following a faint trail that led to a clearing ringed by a wrought iron fence. Blocks of black marble had been set into the grass, marking the spot as the Sinclair Family cemetery—the place where the Sinclairs themselves were buried, along with all the people who'd loyally served the Family.

Including my mom.

I crouched down and plucked a small blue forget-me-not from a patch of them growing wild in the clearing. Then I got to my feet and opened the gate, wincing at the faint
creak
, before walking to her tombstone at the back of the cemetery.
Serena Sterling
flowed across the marker, while her symbol, the Sterling Family symbol—that five-pointed star—was carved into the top of the black stone.

I stared at her tombstone, all the usual emotions squeezing my heart: guilt, grief, loss, longing, anger. But no matter what I felt, no matter how much I still missed my mom, the world kept right on turning, the way it always did, the way it always would. Birds chirped, bees buzzed, rockmunks scuttled through the underbrush. So I drew in a breath, then let it out, pushing away my turbulent feelings even as the air seeped out of my lungs.

I stayed by her grave for several minutes, soaking up the peace and quiet, especially after all the conversations and questions in the dining hall. I'd been on my own for so long that I was still adjusting to living in the mansion and being around so many people all the time. Whenever I needed a breather from the Family, I'd slip out of the mansion and come here, since no one seemed to visit the cemetery but Claudia and me.

I twirled the forget-me-not back and forth in my fingers, watching the fading sunlight play over the blue petals. Then I placed the flower on my mom's tombstone, mumbled how much I still missed her to whatever ghosts and monsters might be watching, and left the cemetery.

I hiked through the woods, passing through growing clouds of cool, damp mist. The summer sun was hot enough to burn off most of the waterfall spray during the day, but as the sun set, the fog increased, sliding lower and lower on the mountain, like vanilla ice cream melting in a sundae and oozing everywhere. Most of the mist was still stuck in the trees above my head, but when night fell, it would filter down through the branches and completely saturate the forest. I wasn't worried, though. No matter how low and thick the fog got, I would still be able to see everything as clearly as if it were noon, thanks to my sight.

No, what bothered me was the noise—or lack of it.

I don't know how far I'd gone into the woods before I noticed that it was quiet—too quiet.

The chirp of birds and lazy drone of bugs that had surrounded the Sinclair cemetery had vanished, replaced by dead, still silence. I dropped my hand to my sword, stopped, and turned in a slow circle, peering at everything, but I didn't spot anything out of the ordinary. Just towering trees and tangled branches and white mist as far as even I could see.

Normally, this deep in the woods, I would have expected to spot at least a couple of sets of bright, glowing, jewel-toned eyes watching me from the shadows— sapphire-blue, emerald-green, and ruby-red orbs that belonged to various monsters. But even the shadows were quiet, still, and empty. Weird. And a little creepy. So I hurried on, keeping my hand on my sword, just in case.

The Draconi compound was on the eastern slope of the mountain, directly opposite the Sinclair mansion on the west side, but it wasn't all that far between them distance-wise, only about three miles cutting straight through the forest. So it took me less than an hour to reach the edge of the woods that flanked the Draconi stronghold.

In addition to being on the other side of the mountain, the Draconi compound was also the exact opposite of the Sinclair mansion in every possible way. It wasn't even a mansion so much as it was a castle, made out of gleaming white stone that rose up into a series of towers, each one topped with a red flag bearing a snarling gold dragon. Everything about the structure was slick and elegant, from the tall, diamond-paned windows to the red roses twining through the white wooden trellises to the cobblestone bridge that arched over the moat in front. Seriously, it was an actual moat with water running through it and everything. That was a bit much, if you asked me.

The Draconi compound was certainly beautiful, but I preferred the Sinclair mansion. The rough, black, blocky stone there seemed much more natural and honest than this too-perfect castle with its ivory towers.

But there was one thing I did like about the Draconi castle—all the trees and bushes that dotted the sloping lawns. Thick clusters of greenery ran all the way from the woods right up to a patio on the west side of the structure. I hadn't mentioned it to Claudia, but this wasn't the first night I'd come here. I'd been hiking over to the Draconi compound every few days and familiarizing myself with the guard routes, doors, windows, and more, in anticipation of this night, when I would actually break into the castle itself. A good thief did her homework, and this was the same routine I'd used countless times before, whenever Mo had sent me out to retrieve an expensive item from someone's house on the sly.

I waited until the guards turned away from my location, then sprinted forward, keeping low and moving from one cluster of bushes to the next. It took me less than a minute to creep from the woods up to the side patio. I reached for the door to see if it was locked, but the
crunch-crunch-crunch
of tires made me stop. I hunkered down and peered around a white marble planter shaped like a snarling dragon blowing red roses out of its mouth, instead of flames.

A dark green SUV pulled up to the front of the mansion and stopped. A silver wolf's head gleamed on each one of the vehicle's doors. My eyes narrowed. What were the Volkovs doing here?

The driver got out of the SUV and hurried to open the back door. A second later, a short, muscular man with a bushy brown beard emerged from the vehicle. Nikolai Volkov, the head of his Family. And he wasn't the only person I recognized. Katia got out of the vehicle as well, along with a middle-aged man who had to be Carl Volkov, her father, since he had the same dark red hair she did.

Nikolai, Katia, and Carl stood by the car, their faces neutral, waiting for the king himself to emerge.

The front doors of the mansion swung open, and Victor Draconi stepped outside, with Blake right beside him, just like always. I looked for Deah, but she didn't appear.

“Nikolai, Katia, Carl,” Victor called out. “Thank you for coming.”

The Volkovs murmured their greetings, and Victor held out his hand, gesturing for them to follow him inside. “This way. My chef has prepared a fine meal for us tonight . . .”

They all disappeared inside the mansion, along with Blake. The Volkov driver stayed with his SUV, eyeing the Draconi guards as though he was worried that they might attack him, now that their respective bosses were gone. The Draconis returned his hostile glares, their hands on their swords, but they went back to their rotations, and no one spotted me lurking on the patio.