Rituals

“Why?” Berend asks in a hoarse whisper. “What is that?”
Isabel tucks the object from the coat into a pocket of her skirt. “A spell–prepared ahead of time to make casting faster. It’s a sort of binding ritual.”
That doesn’t sound good. “For Lady Breckenridge?”
“I don’t know.”
Berend puts a hand on his sword and turns to the parlor door, but he stops himself before he goes anywhere. Nothing will be gained by revealing himself too soon, as much as he’d like to lop Geray’s head off right now, and Lady Breckenridge will never forgive him if he gets blood all over her dining room rug.
The voice of an old commander intrudes on his thoughts. Think, Horst, think.
Continue reading “The Book of the New Moon Door: Chapter Twenty-Three”