Chapters (66)
- Cover
- Title Page
- Dedication
- Acknowledgments
- France / 1666
- Chapter 1
- Chapter 2
- Chapter 3
- Chapter 4
- Chapter 5
- Massachusetts / 1892
- Chapter 6
- Chapter 7
- Chapter 8
- Chapter 9
- San Francisco / 1927
- Chapter 10
- Chapter 11
- Chapter 12
- Chapter 13
- Chapter 14
- Chapter 15
- Cleveland / 1938
- Chapter 16
- Chapter 17
- Chapter 18
- Chapter 19
- Chapter 20
- Chapter 21
- Chapter 22
- Edinburgh / 1962
- Chapter 23
- Chapter 24
- Chapter 25
- Chapter 26
- Chapter 27
- Chapter 28
- Chapter 29
- Chapter 30
- Chapter 31
- Chapter 32
- Chapter 33
- Chapter 34
- Chapter 35
- Chapter 36
- Chapter 37
- Chapter 38
- Chapter 39
- Chapter 40
- Chapter 41
- Chapter 42
- Chapter 43
- Chapter 44
- Chapter 45
- Chapter 46
- Chapter 47
- Chapter 48
- Chapter 49
- Chapter 50
- Chapter 51
- Epilogue
- About the Author
- Preview of Broken
- Also by Kelley Armstrong
- Praise for Kelley Armstrong
- Copyright
“No, Kristof,” the Fate said.
He opened his mouth to object, but the Fate lifted her hand.
“We will not let you go with Eve. That is an absolute, so do not argue the matter or you’ll only delay her. As for why we won’t allow it, I’m sure you already know. Perhaps you could help her, but you will also hinder her. Anyone we sent with her, even Katsuo, could prove a dangerous distraction. In a place like that, she must look to her own safety at all times.”
“I’ll go alone,” I said. “That’s best. One question: If I can hurt, he can hurt, right?”
“Yes, but…” She hesitated. “I have said that I will respect your decision not to ascend, and I am loath to do anything that could be seen as pushing you toward that choice, and yet…” She gripped the side of the spinning wheel and leaned forward. “This much I must say, if only because it would unpardonable to omit it. Were you to find yourself in a situation where no other escape is possible, ascension is still an option. You need only to wish for it, and the Creator will grant it immediately. You would then be impervious to harm and would be able to use the sword. But, know this, Eve, if you ascend, we cannot reverse the process, however much we may wish to.”
“I understand. Now tell me more about this Dachev. If he’s in your realms, that makes him a supernatural.”
“He’s a magician.”
I thumped my head back against Kristof’s shoulder and sighed. “Of course he is.”
Magicians were related to sorcerers, and they had even more reason than their brethren to hate witches. Magicians are a substandard form of spell-casters. I say that with no snobbery. Sorcerers and witches can argue over which race is less powerful, but even a sorcerer would admit, albeit grudgingly, that a witch outranked a magician any day.
For centuries, there had been no distinction between male spell-casters—they were all sorcerers, and all inferior to witches. At the time, their magic was limited to simple illusions and sleight of hand, the kind of magic you can see at a kid’s birthday party these days. Then witches, being the generous fools they often are, decided it was time to join forces, a drive for sexual equality a thousand years before the suffragettes hit the streets.
Witches taught the sorcerers how to strengthen their skills with stronger magic and incantations. All went just dandy for a few hundred years, until the Inquisition hit, and sorcerers turned on the witches. But that’s ancient history…even if it doesn’t keep either race from holding a grudge five hundred years later.