The moment the door closed behind us, the city noise disappeared, not faded. Vanished, completely. The silence inside the shop was thick and unnatural, like stepping underwater.
I stood just inside the doorway, letting my eyes adjust to the dim light. The place smelled faintly of old paper, burnt herbs, and something metallic that reminded me uncomfortably of blood.
Shelves crowded the walls from floor to ceiling, packed with jars, scrolls, and objects I couldn't even begin to identify. Some of them glowed faintly. Others twitched slightly when I looked at them too long. That seemed like a bad sign.
A single lantern burned near the back of the room, its golden light flickering over a cluttered wooden table. And behind that table stood the man who had spoken. He was a lot older than I expected.
Not elderly exactly, but his hair had turned a thin shade of silver and deep lines marked the corners of his eyes. His robes were dark and layered with strange stitched symbols that shifted faintly when the light hit them, but what caught my attention most were his eyes. They were fixed directly on me, not curious, not any confusion in them. He seemed certain that he knew everything about me already.
"Oh," he said again softly. "Well this is unexpected."
My hand instinctively moved toward the dagger hidden beneath my cloak. "You know me?"
The mage smiled slightly. "No."
That answer should have reassured me, but it didn't.
"But I know your blood," he continued.
Something cold slid down my spine. Beside me, Mal had gone very still.
"Explain," Mal said calmly.
The mage's gaze shifted toward him. For a moment the room seemed to tighten. Magic hummed faintly in the air but I didn't know who's it was. The man's expression changed almost immediately.
Recognition. Then something that looked suspiciously like caution.
"Well," the mage said slowly. "That explains quite a lot."
Mal didn't respond. But I felt something ripple through the bond between us. Interest maybe. He was sharp and focused.
I cleared my throat. "Okay, great. Everyone seems to know things except me."
The mage's attention returned to me. "Rachel Smith."
What the heck? The sound of my name in his mouth made my stomach drop. I hadn't said it. Mal hadn't said it. So how did he know my name?
"You're the girl they tried to execute yesterday," the mage continued calmly.
I felt my pulse spike. "That information shouldn't have traveled this fast."
The mage shrugged lightly. "This city has many ears."
Mal stepped forward slightly. "You recognized her blood before you recognized her name."
The mage nodded. "Yes." He hummed an amused smile on his face.
My patience snapped. "Would someone like to explain what that means?"
The man leaned back against the table, studying me with the same quiet intensity he'd had since we entered. "You truly don't know." That was rhetorical.
I crossed my arms. "Know what?"
"That your family line was once the most feared bloodline in the kingdom." The words hung in the air. For a moment I just stared at him. Then I laughed, a full belly laugh. I laughed so hard I had to bend over and put my hands on my knees to catch my breath. "You've clearly never met my family."
Mal said nothing. Which, for once, was deeply unhelpful, and very suspicious.
The mage didn't laugh. "You think I'm joking." He cocked his head at me.
"Yes."
He shook his head slowly. "You" he pointed a boney long finger in my direction, "your ancestors were known as demon binders."
The room went very quiet. I glanced at Mal. He was watching the mage carefully.
"Demon… binders?" I repeated.
The words sounded ridiculous. The mage nodded again. "Humans capable of summoning and binding demons through blood contracts."
I snorted. "That's exactly what I accidentally did yesterday."
The moment the words left my mouth, the silence thickened.
The mage's smile returned. "Yes," he said softly.
"That's why."
I stared at him. "No."
"Yes."
I shook my head. "That ritual circle was in a ruined temple under the cathedral."
"An ancient binding chamber," the mage corrected.
My stomach twisted. "That doesn't mean anything to me."
"It means someone in your family built it." He confirmed my fear.
I suddenly felt very aware of the pendant resting against my chest beneath the cloak. My mother's pendant. The mage's gaze dropped briefly toward it. "There it is," he said quietly. My hand closed over the stone protectively, it was the only belonging I had of my mother. "You're looking at it like you recognize it." I muttered.
"I do."
"How?"
"That symbol," he said, pointing lightly toward my chest, "is the sigil of the original binding families."
A strange sensation stirred in my chest. Not fear. Not exactly. More like the uncomfortable feeling of discovering a secret that had been waiting quietly your entire life. One that you where better off not knowing, but it was to late. I couldn't take back what I knew.
Mal finally spoke. "Your mother never told you?"
I turned toward him sharply. "You knew?" That seems like something that would have been important to mention.
"Not with certainty."
"Since when?"
"Since the ritual."
I stared at him. "You could have mentioned that."
"You seemed busy escaping execution." He gave me a half smile.
That was fair. I turned back to the mage.
"Alright," I said slowly. "Let's assume for a moment that this bizarre family history lesson is accurate."
The mage smiled faintly. "It is." His confidence wasn't comforting me.
"Then why does it matter now?"
He folded his hands together. "Because it explains why the summoning worked."
My stomach tightened. "Meaning?"
"You didn't accidentally summon a demon." His gaze flicked briefly toward Mal.
"You summoned the one your bloodline called." The room went silent again.
I felt the bond between Mal and me stir faintly. Not emotion, more like something deeper maybe recognition, but I didn't recognize anything, I was just more confused. I looked at him.
"You're telling me this wasn't random."
Mal held my gaze calmly. "No."
The mage continued before I could ask anything else. "But that's not why you came here."
Right. I almost forgot about the dagger, the framing. My carefully planned revenge plan. I forced my thoughts back onto the real problem. "You made a cursed dagger recently," I said.
The mage's eyebrows lifted slightly. "Did I?"
"The one used in an assassination attempt against the king."
Understanding flashed in his eyes. "Ah." "That one."
My hands clenched slightly. "Who bought it?"
The mage sighed. "You realize I cannot simply reveal my clients."
Mal stepped forward. The air in the room shifted instantly. Cold power curled faintly around him. The mage glanced at him. Then smiled nervously. "However," he continued quickly, "exceptions can occasionally be made."
I leaned forward slightly. "Who?" I needed the answer in order to complete my plan.
The mage tapped his fingers against the table thoughtfully. "A young noblewoman."
My heart thudded. "Golden hair, sweet smile, perfect lies."
"Leanna," I said quietly.
The mage nodded. "Yes."
Rage surged through my chest so suddenly it made my vision blur. For a moment the room seemed too small. Too hot.
"She paid well," the mage continued. "But she was not the one who wanted the dagger."
I froze. "What?"
"She ordered it," he said carefully. "But someone else instructed her to do so."
My pulse pounded harder. "Who?"
The mage's expression darkened slightly.
"That," he said, "is the part you will not like."
I leaned across the table. "I already don't like any of this." I almost yelled at him. It took all my control not to reach over and grab his neck to shake him.
He looked directly at me. "The order came from someone inside the royal court." The words hit like a hammer.
Behind me, Mal's voice was calm. "Which one."
The mage hesitated. Then said two words. "Lord Varick."
My breath caught. Varick. One of the king's most trusted advisors. That man who had personally congratulated me on my engagement just weeks ago. The man who had smiled and said he looked forward to seeing me join the royal family. My hands began to tremble. Betrayal layered on betrayal. Leanna, Adrian, my Father and now Varick. Why had I spent so many years trusting these spineless people?
Mal's voice broke through the storm in my chest. "Rachel." I took a slow breath. The sound of my name dripping off his tongue was almost enough to calm me I took another breath. The anger didn't disappear, but it sharpened.
I looked at the mage again. "Thank you," I said.
The mage raised an eyebrow. "For what?"
"For giving me the first piece of the truth."
Behind me, Mal's voice carried a quiet hint of approval. "And now," he said softly,
"things will get even more interesting." He looked at me like I was his prey, but it didn't scare me, instead it gave me hope.