Total pages in book: 177
Estimated words: 171450 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 857(@200wpm)___ 686(@250wpm)___ 572(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 171450 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 857(@200wpm)___ 686(@250wpm)___ 572(@300wpm)
Something was happening inside of her because her magic reacted, but it certainly wasn’t a portal door.
“Let’s call it,” Graves said after Kierse collapsed onto the floor for the third time. “She’s drained.”
“Yes, well, we can keep working on it tomorrow,” Kingston said with a flourish. “Shall we go to the opera?”
“I have nothing to wear,” Kierse said from the floor.
“That won’t be a problem.”
Kierse glanced at Graves, who shrugged. “You can pickpocket unsuspecting opera patrons?”
She groaned. “Fine. You convinced me.”
Chapter Nine
Stealing from wealthy people in opera boxes was the most fun she’d had in ages. They were wearing way too much jewelry, and none of them expected a fellow box holder to swipe it. That made it even more fun to slip diamonds and jewels and Rolex watches and money out of purses and wallets when they weren’t looking. By the end of the show, which she did not understand in the slightest but she adored the music nonetheless, she felt entirely revitalized.
“I knew you would enjoy it. She has taste, Graves.” Kingston preened as if Kierse was his apprentice and not Graves’s. It was easy to forget that Kingston was anything but what he seemed when he treated them so well. She kept having to remind herself to keep her guard up around him.
“We already knew that. She’s with me,” he said, slipping his arm around her waist as they headed down the uneven stone sidewalk.
Kierse teetered in the heeled black boots and a red cocktail dress that Madeline had graciously picked out for her. She’d even traded out her leather jacket for a white, knee-length wool coat that melded to her figure. She liked it enough she might take it home.
“You appear to be feeling better. So take us home,” Kingston said.
“What?” Kierse asked. “Me?”
“Yes. Open a portal to my residence. I can even give you access through the wards.”
“That’s miles away,” Kierse said. “We’re in Covent Garden.”
Kingston gestured forward for her to continue anyway.
Kierse frowned and pictured his house across town. The museum inside his townhouse off of Hyde Park. The hardwood floors and the paintings on the walls and the little chaise for Graves to read while they worked. The lightness in the room. The laughter. The fact that Graves wanted this for her enough that he had trusted someone else to train her.
“All right. I’ll try.”
“Don’t try. Do it,” Kingston said.
She felt the persuasion coming off him. It didn’t work on her, of course. But even though it didn’t work, she realized that he used it so often that he almost couldn’t help when he pushed. It was just there. It was maybe there for him before he even knew he was doing it. Like Kierse’s slow motion.
Kierse concentrated, pushing out her intent as she drew a doorway in the sidewalk. For a second, a flickering wavering light of gold appeared like a small doorway with a little gold handle.
She shrieked. “I did it.”
“The first part,” Kingston said with a smile. “Now, open the door and visualize where you’re headed.”
Kierse’s hand trembled as she reached for the doorknob. But when she tried to push it open, it all vanished into smoke. She deflated.
“That was a success,” Kingston said with a smile. “We’ll try more tomorrow.”
Then he sketched a door into his home, making it look far too easy. There was no space between him drawing the portal and then trying to open the door or focusing his intent to visualize where he was going. There was none of that. Just one minute a normal sidewalk and the next inside his house.
Graves held her back. “We’ll walk the Thames and meet you later.”
Kingston grinned. “Have fun, turtle doves.”
He stepped through, and the door vanished.
“Ugh. He makes it looks so easy.”
“He’s been doing it for hundreds of years,” Graves reminded her as they headed away from the opera house and down the uneven streets toward the Thames River.
“Yeah,” she said, tucking her arm into the crook of his elbow. “At least I’m making progress. Though I’m still surprised that you brought me here.”
He pulled her sideways through an entrance to the empty stone balcony of Somerset House. “I told you that if you gave me a chance that I would earn your trust. That I would change to be the person that you deserve. I’ve endeavored to do just that.”
“You have,” she told him as they settled against the wall. “You let me in the planning, you helped me with my memories, you brought in more people to help. I’m surprised by Kingston. You always acted like he would be upset if he found out what I was.”
“He would be. Kingston likes things one way. He’s lived long enough that he rejects change. The only thing that he really cares about are warlocks. So as long as he continues to believe you are one, then it’s like you’re inside an exclusive club.”