Dark Heart of Magic (Black Blade #2)

We made it to the far side of the greenlab, and I sidled up to the glass doors there and peered out into the hallway beyond. The lights were turned down low in this part of the mansion, creating more shadows than not. Just the way I liked it.

Since the coast was clear, I stepped out of the glass doors and into the hallway—

A sword zipped out of the shadows, stopping an inch from my throat. I froze, my body tense, my hand curling around the hilt of my own sword, ready to draw the weapon and defend myself with it.

“You’re late,” a familiar voice growled.

Deah Draconi stepped out of the shadows, her sword still at my throat. I looked down at the weapon and the stars carved into the dull, ash-colored metal. A similar pattern adorned my own sword. Both of our weapons had been given to us by our respective mothers, and both were black blades.

Deah was quite beautiful with her golden hair and dark blue eyes, which were the same color as my own—another sign of our Sterling Family blood, along with our black blades. She was wearing white shorts and sandals with a red T-shirt, but my gaze dropped to the gold cuff stamped with the Draconi dragon crest that gleamed on her right wrist. Deah might be helping us now, but part of me still wondered whose side she would choose in the end, when Victor finally made his move to destroy all the other Families, starting with the Sinclairs.

“Hello, cousin,” I drawled. “I didn’t see you there. You’re getting better at sneaking around. I approve. We might make a thief out of you yet.”

Deah rolled her eyes at my calling her cousin, but she dropped her sword from my throat. Neither one of us had known about our connection until a couple of weeks ago, when it had come out during the Tournament of Blades, and we were both still getting used to the idea that we were family and trying to figure out what kind of relationship we wanted to have.

“How’s Seleste?” I asked in a kinder voice, referring to her mother and my aunt.

“She went to bed early tonight.” Deah hesitated a moment. “She’s actually been doing a lot better these past two weeks. It’s as if seeing you at the tournament and then us working together has quieted her mind and made her sharper, clearer, more focused.”

I nodded. Seleste had sight magic too, but her Talent let her see the future, which led to her doing and saying all sorts of strange things. Most people thought Seleste was crazy or made fun of her, but I’d grown to like her odd ways. Besides, Seleste and Deah were the only blood family I had left now, and I was going to look out for them. That’s what my mom would have wanted.

“Um, I hate to be whiny, but can we get on with things?” Felix asked, shifting on his feet. “These bags are heavy.”

Deah looked at Felix, her eyes softening. “You know, I really like seeing you every night—even if it is because of my dad and what he’s planning to do.”

Felix’s face lit up. “I like seeing you too.”

Then he grinned, stepped forward, and slung his arm around her shoulders. “Have I told you how beautiful you look tonight—”

He started whispering to her as they walked down the hallway in front of us. Devon grinned and nudged me with his elbow. I rolled my eyes, but I was grinning too. I was glad that Felix and Deah had found happiness, despite how dangerous it was for them to be together.

The four of us made it to Victor’s office, and Deah gestured at the double doors, which had two snarling gold dragons for knobs. The creatures looked like they might come to life and bite off the fingers of anyone who tried to open them.

“Locked,” she said. “Sorry, but I haven’t been able to get a key yet. I tried to open it earlier with those lock picks you gave me, but I’m still not as good with them as you are.”

“No worries,” I said, smiling. “Finally, something fun for me to do.”

Deah shook her head. “You are seriously strange, Merriweather.”

My smile widened. “You have no idea, Draconi.”

While the others kept watch, I reached up and removed two thin chopsticks that were stuck through my ponytail. The sticks were the same black as my hair, but a twist of the wood revealed the lock picks hidden inside. The tools felt as familiar to me as my own fingers, and I started humming a soft, happy tune as I bent over the lock and inserted the picks.

Over the past two weeks, I’d had a lot of practice on this particular lock, and it snicked open less than thirty seconds later. Still, we all tensed, knowing that we were stepping into the dragon’s den—and that he could come and catch us at any moment.

I stuck the chopstick lock picks back into my ponytail, then took hold of the knobs. “Here we go,” I whispered and opened the doors.