I fought to open one eye, fought as if I was Atlas struggling to keep the world aloft. Finally, I managed it. And I stared up into the still face of a woman just as she opened one eye, too.

  Everything came slamming back into my head as if knowledge was a catapult. The facts blasted into me.

  The fight wasn’t over.

  She was still in my house… and if she escaped… if she escaped and told anyone about me, everything would be over.

  I tried to grip her. I didn’t have the strength.

  I could barely move, in fact. But she… oh, for whatever reason, she was stronger.

  She locked a hand beside my head, breathing through her teeth, then somehow managed to push off me.

  Dammit. I could not lose her. Lose her, and I’d lose everything. Everything I had worked for. Everything I had sacrificed for. All of it. All of that was now trapped behind her lips. Keep them shut, or I would lose the kingdom to my brother. The equation was that stark. And it was on her lips that I focused as she finally grunted and pushed off me.

  “It shouldn’t be this hard,” she muttered to herself. How she could stand and move – though with little coordination – I didn’t know.

  But I couldn’t do a thing. There was no magic I could call on. My body was spent. I watched her stagger toward the door and practically saw my life readying to leave with her.

  But no. Dammit. I had not come this far to lose now. Not to lose like this to her.

  That galvanized me, but truly, the thought of my brother was what galvanized me completely.

  As soon as she started speaking, he’d find out about me.

  I twitched one hand toward her, and it was all I could do. I didn’t have the magic to stop her… but did I have something else?

  One word jumped into my head, one spell, too. Indenturing.

  Wizards, especially wizards like me, possessed of some of the most obscure spells there were, could indenture witches.

  And in indenturing someone, you subsumed their magic under yours. You did not technically have to defeat them first to do that, however. Especially if you knew some of the spells I knew.

  It was decidedly dark magic. Enslaving someone to you was never a kind nor justified thing. It wasn’t something I had ever thought about. I knew they indentured in other kingdoms, but I’d always had a line. Until now. Just as she reached the front door, staggered against it, and briefly looked at me from over her shoulder, I extended a hand toward her. The words readied on my lips.

  And I spoke them just as she smiled and muttered, “I don’t think I have that much to learn from you after all.”

  “You’d be surprised,” I croaked. Then I cast the spell. Simple, it only consisted of three words. Dark and ancient, as soon as the syllables struck the air, they forced their way toward her.

  She’d just turned. She snapped her head around, sensing the strong magic, but there was nothing she could do. It struck her chest. It threw her arms out wide.

  Finally, she screamed. In anger, mind you, not fear. “What the devil is this? What are you doing to me, Winchester?”

  She knew my name, but I didn’t know hers. That would change.

  Though I still shouldn’t have the power, I found it, all to lift to my feet, all to face her. “I, Winchester Stone, indenture you. Say your name,” I bellowed.

  “Indenture?” she spluttered. Her eyes widened with a twitch. She tried to yank her arms down, but she couldn’t.

  “Say your name,” I commanded as I pointed two stiff fingers toward her.

  She clearly had no intention of divulging her identity, but the magic did it for her. It raced into her mouth, loosened her lips, and forced her to mutter, “Lisbeth McQuarrie.” She immediately squeaked in surprise at the fact she’d spilled the beans.

  I smiled. Was it kind? Oh, very much not. I smiled, however, because I finally had my solution.

  I hadn’t thought about indenturing her whilst I’d fought her, but perhaps this was the best thing for all of us.

  Best, because it enabled me to keep her quiet while using her. And perhaps better because it kept her close.

  I strode up to her, now thankful for the fact she could not move a muscle. Her eyes, however, were very much alive, and they locked on me with true disdain. I immediately realized it was the opposite of the look Grace had always given me.

  Grace, with her soft determination that could whittle away even the coldest heart, seemed to be anathema to this Lisbeth. Get trapped in her fiery gaze for long, and you would burn up long before water could erode you.

  Or perhaps someone else could burn up. Not me, not anymore.

  Standing stiffly in front of her, I shoved my two fingers against her brow. She fidgeted, but there was nothing she could do to fight it for long.

  Power shot around her, reached her wrists, and lifted them up. “You can’t indenture me,” she spluttered desperately.

  I just smiled. “I already did, Lisbeth McQuarrie. You are now my indentured witch, and I am your master.”

  Never had the word master slipped off my tongue with so much joy.

  The spell was finally spent. She’d been lifted up by it, but now she fell back down. I rather meanly moved out of the way. For half a second, my arm wanted to twitch forward and hold her. But that was only out of habit. I’d grasped onto her far too much during that fight.

  Angling backward, I let her tumble to her knees. She let out a huff of a breath, slowly tilted her head back, then shot to her feet. I will admit my heartbeat hardened at her quick, direct action. Hardened, then tingled away as a shot of nerves got the better of me. It couldn’t last. There was little point. I had her exactly where I needed her. At my feet. For I suddenly pointed to my feet, and the residual magic pulled her back down. “I am now your master. You may not understand what an indenture spell is—”

  “Oh, I understand, all right,” she snapped. “It is dark magic. Forbidden magic. For you are a dark practitioner indeed, Winchester. How reprehensible.”

  I arched an eyebrow and laughed. Had anyone else said that, perhaps I would’ve taken their words to heart. For I had enslaved somebody. But my lips couldn’t help but curl. A smile, perhaps larger than any I had bothered to make in a long time, settled itself onto my lips as if it would be permanently there around her. “Stand,” I commanded.

  She remained steadfastly where she was, one eyebrow arched. “The residual control spell is now spent. I will not stand,” she snarled.

  “Stand, because I am your master, and if you don’t, I will use your magic to force you to stand. Would you like me to go prying around—”

  I didn’t need to finish. She shot up to her feet, the threat apparently sufficient. She looked deadly angry. I don’t think I had ever seen someone’s cheeks quite as stiff. “You’ll pay for this, do you know that? You will pay.”

  I looked down at her as she clenched a hand into a fist. “Do not deny reality. You’re the one who has paid the price. Now.” That word slid off my lips. Sorry, it clunked.

  There was much I needed to know.

  So what did she do? Did she shudder in fear at my anger? Oh no. She simply crossed her arms. “How long do you actually think you’ll be able to keep me for?” she challenged.

  “Indefinitely. You clearly do not understand indenture spells.”

  “Really? I had a cousin in a neighboring kingdom who was once indentured to a duke. I understand that kind of indenturing. This,” she pointed at her wrists and the two dark magical bands that now covered them, “is not indenturing. It’s enslavement. You’ve wrapped your magic around mine.” She took a threatening step up to me. “But it won’t last. And I can promise you that.”

  Why did the smile remain on my lips? Why did it become even deeper as I tilted my head to the side, jutted my chin out, and demanded, “And why not?”

  “Because I’m stronger than you, Winchester Stone.”

  I paused. Paused as if I was actually considering whether that was true. Then I laughed.

  I pointed randomly forward, then realized I was motioning toward the door I very much did not want her to leave through. I pointed behind me. I went to tell her to get out of my sight. But I couldn’t do that. She was my indentured. Worse… I’d indentured her with enslaving magic. Yes, she was now under my control, but I didn’t need anyone else knowing that. Because if they found out, they would recognize I had access to magic I shouldn’t.

  I’d learned that indenturing magic from a dead practitioner.

  All of this shot through my mind quickly.

  One’s thoughts are hidden from others. Or at least they should be. When the others, however, are astute and rather irritating witches, that can’t always be taken for granted. She ticked her own head to the side. I will give her one thing. She didn’t appear to have any fear. If she really thought I was a dark practitioner, shouldn’t she be shaking in her boots? “I promise you, very soon, I will have escaped, and you will be in an even worse situation.”

  “You cannot escape an enslavement spell.”

  “You’ll find I’m full of surprises.”

  “Lisbeth, you will—”

  “What? You don’t even know what to do with me,” she spat.

  I paused.

  What to do with her? Oh, I could think of a thousand things. But that familiar warning rose.

  I needed to keep her close from now on, close and then closer, for I couldn’t let anyone find out what she was.

  “You, Lisbeth, will change your clothes,” I said strictly.

  She had done nothing but butt horns with me until now. Her chin receded back. Her cheeks brightened. “Excuse me—”

  “You will never be excused now you are my indentured. And do not mistake this for anything other than it is. We need to get you something with long sleeves. Come.”

  When I turned and she wasn’t following, I went to click my fingers viciously in front of her face. She simply snarled at me.

  And I… why, I smiled.

  I had always told myself there was a line. While technically I did practice dark magic, I didn’t use it for dark reasons. I knew well what would happen to me – and the rest of the kingdom – if my powers were ever discovered. It was important for me to stay out of my brother’s clutches. Hence I’d practiced dark magic. But I’d crossed the line, hadn’t I? Because I’d now practiced it against this woman, and her freedom was now in the palm of my hand.

  So why smile? I suppose because I couldn’t stop.

  She stalked along behind me.

  “I should’ve just stayed home yesterday,” she muttered.

  I knew that I would never get anything done if I took the opportunity to snap at her at every chance, but I couldn’t deny this one.

  I turned on her fast. My nostrils flared. “How dare you defile that crypt. Wintersmith was a wizard—”

  “Wintersmith is—” she began, then stopped abruptly.

  I arched an eyebrow at her.

  She looked to the side. “Just hurry up, will you? We both know you’re a brute. I want to get this over and done with. But trust me, all the while, I shall be watching you, Winchester. I shall learn precisely what I need to. Then, when the time is right, I will escape.”

  It was a threat. Technically. She could not of course enact it. So why did my stomach tighten with anticipation, not amusement?

  “We shall see about that,” I snapped.

  I took her to one of my many rooms.

  One of my many magical rooms. I had multiple resources beyond my basement. Including a magical wardrobe that could take one’s dimensions and measurements and create any clothes they required. It was, of course, expensive to run. I, of course, simply found the spirit stones to run it.

  I don’t know why, but I was thoroughly amused by her expression as we strode in. She clearly knew what she was looking at. Her bottom lip wobbled and fell open. “A magical wardrobe?”

  “Yes. I suppose from the look of you, you’ve never seen one. Real power—”

  “What a waste of resources,” she spoke right over the top of me. “Only a fool would waste good magic on clothes that simply can be bought or created by a seamstress.”

  My teeth clenched together. “By the time I’m done with you,” I promised, “you will realize I am not a fool. You will realize I am—”

  “In trouble,” she spoke right over the top of me. I do not know what possessed this woman, how she found her strength and pluck, but she pushed right past me.

  She prodded at the wardrobe. She went to grab the door, but I grabbed her hand. “You will not touch my things without my permission.”

  “I find that hard to believe. I’m your indentured now. I’ll be by your side until you grow sick of me. What, do you not like poor grubby hands on your possessions? Now, let me see what I can touch—”

  Before she could march around the room sullying my things, I grasped her wrist and pushed her toward the wardrobe. I held her tightly. It was easy. I knew from experience just how simple it was for this woman to break someone’s grip, however. She could not break the indenture spell. It was located around her wrists, and it made it smoother for me to focus my power on them. And focus I did as I held her still. She glowered into my eyes. I looked down her figure, not the first time I had. Though, to be fair, most of the knowledge of her figure came from touching her. An irrelevant note. “Wardrobe,” I said in a commanding tone, “create something ugly for this woman to suit her extremely plain features. Ensure it covers her wrists.”

  Did she shake back at my insult? Why, of course not. She laughed. “Yes. Because it will be very convenient for you to take me around the Magical Academy wearing the ugliest of garb. I will fit in fantastically well. You’re very intelligent, Winchester Stone.”

  “How on earth has a woman like you survived this long?” I growled.

  My insult, though I hurled it with great vocal force, appeared to bounce off her. Again, she simply crossed her arms and arched an eyebrow at me. “Would you actually like to know? Remove the indenturing spell, and we’ll see how the fight will end. Had you not tried such an underhanded trick, I would’ve won.”

  I bristled.

  Though I wanted to hold her eye contact, though I desperately wanted to get the upper hand, the rational part of my mind knew to do that, all I had to do was wage ahead and stop engaging her in fruitless conversation.

  I also had my brother’s offer to think about. While it wasn’t night yet, at some point, I would have to go to the palace to help him discover that dead witch.

  There was far too much to think about. I should be thinking about it and not about Lisbeth here as I let my gaze slide across her form once more. She was petite, but now I looked past her voluminous skirts, I realized she had a much stronger figure than she ought.

  She rolled her eyes quite rudely. “Are you actually going to keep me by your side?” she asked, voice skipping so lightly like a stone thrown on a calm pond. Then it sank with bitter ease, “Because, trust me, I will tell—”

  I brought one finger up in a snapping motion as if I had ejected it from the world’s most powerful cannon. I could have simply let it hang there between us. It was far easier – and perhaps far more pleasurable – to stick it against her lips.

  I watched her eyes widening, and though I was not connected to her heart, I fancied it skipped many a beat. “Try it. Go ahead, Lisbeth McQuarrie,” I said in my most devastatingly deadly tone. “Try to share a word of what I am with anyone.”

  I had to remember this trick. It silenced her more effectively than fighting her. It was a darn sight easier, too. And, up this close, I could enjoy every single moment of it. Her cheeks started to touch with red. Then, with defiance – for that, apparently, was the only skill she truly had – she jerked back and opened her mouth. I didn’t know exactly what she wanted to say, but her lips suddenly scrunched together. You would have to be looking carefully to recognize it was magic that stopped them in place. It didn’t have to travel over her body and instead went through it. For the indenturing spell was now a part of her.

  I’d seen plenty of funnier things, but I don’t think I’d ever reacted with ribald laughter this significant. The chortles could be picked up down the street. I even slapped my thigh.

  Her expression simply descended like a thundercloud ready to be sucked down some drain.

  “Are you done, Lisbeth? Have you learned your lesson? Why do you think I contracted you?”

  “Enslaved, not contracted. And the reason is you are a dead practitioner,” she said without pause.

  There were two things I needed to note. The first was nobody, not even my mother, had known I was a dead practitioner. So I had never had to face somebody accusing me of this. Though of course I had suspected for some time my brother might have an inkling of what I was. Not the point. My body had been primed to dread these words, and now she spat them with such ease. But was that the fact I should care about the most? No. How did she know?

  How long had she been watching me for? Exactly what was she after?

  I loomed over her. She did not push back. “It’s obvious. You have a practitioner room in the Magical Academy, hidden from all of your colleagues. It’s so very clean—” she began, but she spoke quickly as if to cover her tracks.

  “You are my indentured now,” I said, emphasizing the word my with an explosive blast of breath. It pushed her fringe over her cheeks. Did that make her more attractive? Of course not. For the comparative to work there – she would’ve had to be attractive in the first place. She was not and never would be in my eyes. She was a meddlesome bug I had finally dealt with.

  If I hoped to squash her flat, however, I had another thing coming. For that would take time, and I’d run out of it.