Her brother wouldn’t let it go. “I told you never to shake her hand. To know that you fu—”

“Bram, stop! I’m a grown witch, and magickind needs your guidance far more than I.”

“That remains to be seen.” Her brother arched a brow. “Where the bloody hell am I?”

“Sterling MacTavish’s estate. Mathias and the Anarki attacked our home. The defenses were down with you unconscious. We had no opportunity to build them back up before . . .” She swallowed. “I’m certain it’s destroyed.”

He closed his eyes, growled, then opened them, revealing a frosty glare. She stepped back. He was Bram … and yet something about his eyes looked foreign, as if he wasn’t quite himself.

Sabelle shook at the thought. “The healer, what did she do?”

For a long moment, he turned his stare to Ice, who did nothing but stand tall, his pose deceptively casual. Finally, Bram dismissed Ice and gave Sabelle his attention.

“You sent a witch into heal me?” At her nod, he frowned. “So there was a female here. I don’t know what she did to heal me. It felt much like a dream. It must have been.”

Bram glowed, a beacon of vitality and energy, the likes of which she had not seen since the morning after he first mated . . .

Sabelle gasped. Emma? “Was the female familiar?”

“I don’t remember much. Did she give her name?”

“No. Did you see her, speak to her?”

“Not exactly.”

Exasperation made her sigh. “What happened?”

“A hooded woman told me to break through the darkness inside me and held my hand while I . . .” He gripped his head as if warding off pain. “I fought, but it choked me with anger. And a clawing need to … rule magickind, run it correctly. The feelings … Overwhelmed me. Nearly crushed me. I couldn’t breathe.” He sighed. “I don’t understand.”

Sabelle gasped and gripped her brother tighter. She didn’t know what that meant, either, but didn’t think for a moment that Bram’s anger or ambition were good. Had Mathias’s spell infested him with something evil, or just brought out his worst tendencies? or maybe this was all part of the dark cure? None of them knew, and now only time would tell. Sabelle would watch Bram … just as she knew the others would as well.

“Then she was there … naked under her robes. She made love to me.” Bran swept a tired hand across his face. “Everything was like a dream. It must have been.”

Because if it hadn’t been, that meant his “dark witch” was his missing mate.

“Was Emma in your ‘dream?’” Sabelle asked.

“Impossible,” Bram snarled. “She’s gone and isn’t coming back.”

or she’d come and gone again with no intent to return. But who knew for certain? Maybe the dark witch had seeded a dream of his missing mate in her brother’s mind. Sabelle dropped her gaze to the floor, a pang of despair filling her. Would the darkness inside Bram slowly rot him without a mate’s love to save his soul?

“Dream or not, we have other problems,” Duke said, rising to his feet. “Big problems. Welcome back from the relative dead, by the way.”

Bram sat Sabelle beside him, glared again at Ice, then asked, “What problems?”

Duke quickly filled him in on MacKinnett’s murder and Blackbourne’s nomination of Mathias for the Council seat.

“Has anyone else on the Council suggested a nominee?” Bram barked the question.

Duke shook his head. “Despite Sydney’s transcasts, most didn’t believe in Mathias’s return until yesterday, when he contacted them all and declared his intent. Blackbourne’s nomination corroborated it.”

“And still the rest of the prats have done nothing?” Angry incredulity exploded in his tone. “Spineless cowards, the lot of them.”

Lucan cleared his throat. “You’re under my uncle’s roof, and he is quite shaken. I’m certain Tynan would not appreciate your description of his grandfather.”

“The truth can be painful,” Bram spat.

Sabelle inched away. Bram was back with her … yet this was not exactly him. Now, he seemed angrier, less patient, more confrontational. He’d always been a diplomat. A thinker. She prayed this was a mood, simply a side effect of the dark healing. That her brother wasn’t fueled by some remnant of Mathias’s magical rage.

“Name calling will hardly solve the problem,” she pointed out. “A plan would be better.”

“You know the cause of my anger, little sister.” Bram’s gaze slid again to Ice. The promise there on his face to kill the wizard filled her with dread.

Before she could protest, Bram interrupted. “But your point is a good one, and I think I know how to solve two problems at once. Lucan, your uncle has heirs independent of your father and his line.”

“Indeed.” The wizard nodded, his dark hair looking glossy and shaggy as dawn filtered through the windows. “He had three sons of his own, the eldest of whom now has his own son.”

“Excellent.” Bram smiled. “If I nominate you, no one can claim that I would be disturbing the line of succession to the traditional MacTavish seat.”

“That was Tynan’s suggestion as well,” Lucan conceded. “But will the Council protest two members from the same family?”

“In desperate times? When they’ve all shown such an appalling lack of leadership? I hope not. You’ve shown yourself to be a man of reason. I know they respect you.”

“Perhaps, but my claim is not as strong as someone like Alfred Hexham, who was a mere boy when his father passed to his nextlife. Alfred Senior had no other heirs to keep the seat in the family, and the Council voted to bestow the seat on MacKinnett precisely because he was old and had no heirs. My uncle told me all assumed that by the time MacKinnett passed, Hexham would be ready.”

“Alfred Hexham is an idiot who should not be allowed to make decisions about his own life, much less anyone else’s. His presence on the Council should not be tolerated.”

“He is not the wizard his father was,” Lucan conceded, “But—”

“No buts. Your point is well taken, and we will simply give you a stronger claim, especially since you have no heirs currently. In order to keep Mathias off the Council, I will require solid allies who will vote in solidarity with me. If I can count on you, your uncle, and Clifden o’Shea, we’ll have enough to keep Mathias out.”

“True,” Sabelle said. “But how will you give Lucan a stronger claim than Hexham?”

“By making an advantageous mating to a very Privileged witch with an impeccable bloodline.” Bram smiled, slid Ice another nasty glare before turning back to her. “In short, dear sister, by mating him to you.”

CHAPTER TWELVE

“ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR bloody mind?” Sabelle shouted.

Bram raised a blond brow at her over an ominous stare. “Lucan is of good family. You know he makes a faithful, considerate mate. He cares for you. The mating will earn you both respect within magickind. His claim to MacKinnett’s seat will be stronger because of your union, so Mathias will have less opportunity to wage his war from the Council and destroy innocent lives to satisfy his hunger for power. Why would you object?”

Every word Bram said was true and yet … Sabelle’s heart railed against it. “Because my heart is engaged elsewhere.”

No one spoke for a long moment, and she felt the vibrations of tension bouncing off the walls. When Bram’s gaze slid over to Ice with a lethal bent, Sabelle knew she must explain—and fast. But not with an audience.

She glanced out the window at the foggy gray dawn, ignoring both Ice and Lucan staring at her over her shoulders. “Could everyone leave us for a moment please? I’d like to speak to my brother.”

Duke all but ran out of the room, clearly eager to avoid more conflict. Lucan was slower to depart. He tried to catch her eye, reached out for her. Resolutely, she kept her profile averted and tensed against the touch she knew was coming. Instead, Lucan sighed, dropped his hand, and left with a curse. Now, just she, Bram, and Ice remained.

“Bram.” Ice addressed her brother in a clear, forceful voice. He would be heard.

“Pleading your case to mate with my sister?” her brother challenged.

Sabelle’s heart threatened to pop out of her chest. Would Ice truly press his suit with Bram now? Doing so was ill-conceived at best, a pending disaster at worst.

“Wait, Ice. I—”

“I intend to have my say with your brother before he continues with this farce.”

“Farce, is it?” Bram crossed his arms over his chest. “odd. I look at it as protecting my sister and magickind all at once.”

Ice clenched his fists, refusing to back down. “I would care for Sabelle always, putting her needs and wishes above my own.”

Bram scoffed. “Pretty words are easy. And I would expect no less of any wizard with whom she mates.”

“Lucan does not love her. I do.”

Sabelle’s heart melted at his open declaration. Ice hid nothing, held back nothing from her brother. But Bram wasn’t in the proper frame of mind to appreciate it.

“You presume to know what’s in Lucan’s heart?”

Ice leaned in and challenged, “Next time Lucan is in the same room with Anka, watch him, see the manner in which he watches her. Pines for her. Burns for her. Note the abiding love on his face. Unless you’ve turned blind in the name of your ambition to rule the Council, you’ll see it. If Lucan loves Sabelle, it’s as a friend. He is grateful for her care during his mate mourning, as he should be. But a mating between them would be wrong.”

“No, mating her with you would be wrong. A mating with Lucan would be advantageous for all concerned, especially the innocents likely to be slaughtered should Mathias obtain the necessary votes to fill MacKinnett’s seat. If Lucan does not yet love her, he will grow to in time.”

“Bram,” Sabelle cut in. “I’m a grown witch, capable of making my own choices. You saved me from my mother’s terrible plans. But—”

“Because of that, I know what is best for you.”

“How is your scheme better than hers?”

Her brother’s jaw dropped in affront. “Lucan is your friend. You’ve known him most of your life. I know you’re familiar with his touch. Yet you dare tell me you think I’m whoring your freedom to a stranger?”

Sabelle took a deep breath and told herself to tread carefully. This Bram, who had been shocked by Mathias’s evil spell, wasn’t the same Bram she knew and loved. His ambition to control the Council had always existed, but he’d checked it. Now … She’d never seen him so ruthless or obvious about it.

“Surely, there is another witch with whom Lucan could mate and gain credibility.”

“Who? It must be someone closely related to a Council member. Mathias murdered MacKinnett’s daughter, Auropha. O’Shea has no female descendants. Camden has no heirs at all. Blackbourne has apparently already chosen the other side. Spencer’s only daughter has scarcely transitioned, and the lot of them are dodgy, besides. That leaves you.”

It was all true. Frustration and temper boiled inside Sa-belle. “You are sacrificing my happiness for your own.”

Bram stared, blinked, then stood. Hurt ripped across his face as he crossed the room. “Sacrificing? You’ve long done everything possible to help the cause, even when I ordered you to cease. You understand, no one will know a shred of happiness if Mathias finds his way onto the Council. Casualties will be high, particularly among existing Councilmen and their families. You know he will seek to replace me and most of the others with his puppets. To do that, he must kill anyone on the Council and their relations, every last man, woman, and youngling.”

Sabelle swallowed as dread spread through her body, swallowing up the futile anger. Despite Bram’s reasons for pushing her to mate with Lucan, his logic could not be faulted. If Mathias earned MacKinnett’s Council seat, he would quickly enslave or kill everyone he imagined to be his enemy. The women … She shuddered, remembering Anka’s ordeal and its aftermath, the bodies of MacKinnett’s female servants. If Mathias had his way, there would be thousands of those pitiful souls.

“Besides,” Bram continued softly. “You may think that Rykard makes you happy now, but he has not the means to keep you as well as you prefer.”

“Material things aren’t important,” she shot back. “The man is.”

“The man … yes. Do you think he has no ulterior motive for wanting you to Bind to him?”

Sabelle wasn’t quite certain how to answer that question. No. Well, perhaps . . . The real question, however: Were those potential reasons stronger than his feelings for her?