Rose in Chains (The Evermore Trilogy, #1)

by Julie Soto

Her brother who was supposed to be the one to end this war. Her brother who had been foretold.

When the sun shines at night, he who will bring an end to war on this land shall be victorious. He shall be an heir, twice over, and a rightful sovereign over the continent.

Heartstop was outlawed in Evermore. Of all the heart magic, Heartstop, the crushing of a heart within its owner’s chest, took the heaviest toll on a magician. The first taking of a human life ripped one’s own heart, and every subsequent kill sliced further and further. Rory had had to learn this complex magic from scratch, as only Bomardi used heart magic. Just as only Eversuns used mind magic.

There were differences between the disciplines, too—certain mind magic spells could never be mastered by a heart magician, and vice versa, but the true difference was the source of power.

Magic pulled from the mind did not exhaust the body, whereas magic from the heart took a greater physical toll. Heart magicians had always needed to rely on animal familiars to keep their strength for prolonged magic use.

Finn Raquin with his dark skin and darker eyes was half Eversun himself; his parents had been one such convenient marriage.

And then there was someone far harder to decipher. Icy cold most days, only to thaw at the oddest moments. With strong hands and opaque eyes, a wicked mouth and a silver tongue. Who inspired as much fear and uncertainty in her chest as he did yearning.

He flung the doors open, and then she was face-to-face with Toven Hearst. The eyes she’d realized years ago weren’t fully gray, but also speckled blue, stared directly into her. She should have cast another spell to soften her heartbeat. He must hear it. His hair fell across his forehead, fine and so pale that the gray was almost silver. The last time she’d seen this man, he’d been hunting her through the woods and killed the people that got in his way. She quivered with his nearness. She told herself it was fear.

For a heart magician, lifting a rock into the air started in the muscle. For a mind magician, it started at the source of movement—the brain. Heart magicians felt a pulsing vein of magic in their chest, while mind magicians felt a thread between the eyes, tying their mind to the outside world.

“Heart magic can be shared, like when a couple marries and decides to share their magic. They become heartsprings with each other in a ceremony that’s usually incorporated into the marriage vows.” Katrina reached for her words. “Kind of like combining your gold when you combine your families, the heart magic gets combined, making each person better, stronger.

“Tell me what? Why are we being held here?” Larissa smiled cruelly. “It’s for the auction.”

The Ten were the Bomardi in the first ten places in line. It gave them certain feelings of superiority. Among them were Orion Hearst, Canning Trow’s mother, Hap Gains, and Liam Quill’s father.

“Absolutely,” Toven said. “I am accustomed to having the finest thing in the room, after all.”

“Do you really think anyone keeps their hands to themselves in year two?” He laughed. “You’ll need protection on the staircases now, Princess.” “And are you volunteering?” she said dryly. “Is that what this is about?” His lips twitched as he looked past her. “Perhaps I’ll come knocking on that private suite when your brother is occupied with Miss Hardstark.”

“Not all Eversuns can pry into your thoughts.” His lips twitched. “No?” He lowered his head to come eye-to-eye with her. “You don’t know what I’m thinking now?”

“I never know what you’re thinking,” she whispered. His gaze burned as he stared down at her.

“I thought perhaps I’d take Miss Rosewood for the second dance.” His eyes glinted. “As sixth in line.” Briony stared at Liam in confusion, until Toven slipped his arms from her, sending daggers to Liam but stepping aside. He had to defer to him. Briony hated that she missed his arms and his sure step.

For what possible reason would we school our young people together if not in an eternal promise not to harm them.” Mallow tilted her head at her. “Promises are only words after all. They can be broken.”

What’s Sacral Magic?” Katrina’s voice shook. “It’s—it’s meant for love matches. It’s a kind of… escalation of the heartspring bond. Much like boosting, in some ways,” she said, glancing at Briony. “But in the same way that sharing a physical union strengthens your marriage in some cases, the heartspring magic grows stronger when you…” Her breath shuddered, and her eyes flitted as panic set in. “It’s meant for love matches,” she repeated. “And when it’s not a love match?” Cordelia asked, her voice tight. “When they chain our magic to them and drain us for power? What does Sacral Magic become then?” Katrina swallowed thickly. “The power gained from a physical union… it only works when freely given. You can’t—force someone to share Sacral Magic with you.”

The demon who has shaken your hand is better than the one who hasn’t.

“You lost the auction, but then settled accounts with Reighven after,” Mallow said. “Yes, Mistress.” “Why?” Briony waited, wondering why as well. “I’m always drawn to the most valuable possessions,” said Toven.

Finola was the first person who showed Briony that she didn’t have to just be a pretty face for a political marriage.

“Don’t speak on things you don’t understand,” he hissed. “I know exactly what I’m talking about.” “Your brother will be a head on a spike one day, and your body will be dragged through the street once Mallow has her way.” His eyes glanced down. “And such a shame for such a fine body.”

His body pressed up against her, pinning her in place. Her eyes widened to feel the long lines of him as he towered over her. “If you insist on forgetting your manners, Rosewood, then maybe I’ll be tempted to forget mine,” he whispered against her mouth.

“I don’t know why it matters. I thought heartsprings didn’t need their tongues, much less a comfortable place to sleep.” She watched him take that in. “The healthier the heartspring, the healthier the magic.”

Mrs. Hearst sighed, standing tall. “I’m sorry for all that you’ve lost, but I cannot offer you more than the assurance that Hearst Hall is the safest place for you.”

The death of the master didn’t free the prisoner.

“Don’t show your hand when you’re bartering with information, Rosewood,” he said wryly. “What’s in your mind can be taken from you.”

He pursed his lips. “I suppose I’ve never sought anyone who obeys easily.”

“Why did she want to kill me?” she asked. “Doesn’t she know I’m here by your wishes?” “She’s… a jealous creature. We both can be.”

“And if I know my son, I know he probably deserved at least a slap across his mouth.”

“You’ll have to get one over on him somehow.” Her voice was cold. “No one should order a Hearst around like that.”

“That heartspring is mine. Her mouth is mine, her magic is mine, her skin is mine.” His teeth bit through the words, and he met eyes with every person at the table before saying, “You will not touch her, under any circumstances. I purchased her. I do what I please with her.”

“I see. You know, Toven, I used to think you were different. But I see you’re just the same as the rest of them.” He smiled and moved forward. “And what is that?” “Ignorant.”

“If you insist on forgetting your manners, Rosewood, then maybe I’ll be tempted to forget mine,” he whispered against her mouth. There were no words in her head as Toven Hearst’s lips grew so close to hers. “What manners?” she said weakly. “You’re no gentleman, Toven Hearst.” He hummed. “If you wanted a gentleman, you’d already be betrothed to Winchester.” Her breath stuck in her throat. His eyes seemed to sparkle as he tilted her jaw up. “Tell me, Princess,” he said, sliding his knee between hers, just as she’d seen him do to Larissa when they were being intimate in the corridors. She gasped, shock and thrill and longing singing in her blood. Briony’s hands braced on his waist, ready to push him away or pull him closer—she couldn’t decide. He smiled, and even though it was cruel, her gaze traced the lines of it. “Do you want a gentleman?” he asked, his voice a low hum that sent waves through her.

“Heartspring magic is meant for love matches,” he began. She nodded, already aware of this. “When heartsprings are properly used… lovemaking strengthens the bond.”

“Gold collars are for the heartsprings who are privately owned—the ones who were auctioned, I mean.” His eyes dropped to the floor. “And yes, the ones wearing silver collars are owned by the Barlowes. They can be… borrowed on Friday evenings, but they live at Biltmore. Some of them are also non-magical, to be rented for company.”

“You underestimate how desirable you were to those men back in school,” Toven said softly. Something about his voice silenced her. Her cheeks flushed as he continued. “If I hadn’t implied our relationship had progessed and therefore taken you off the market—so to speak—their interest would be tenfold what it is now. The only mistake I made was dancing with you at the estate dinner after the first school year. You were marked in their eyes from that moment forward.”

“I see,” she said, voice dripping with disdain. “Do you all have sex in front of each other often then?” He rolled his eyes. “They don’t want to watch us have sex, Rosewood. They want to see you humiliated.”

“I’ll bend you over the table, or a chair, or just press you up against the window that overlooks the ponds, and I’ll tell you to keep reading as I enter you. I’ll make sure you get to finish the chapter you’re on before I spend myself inside of you, then I’ll slap your ass and call you a good girl. You collect your dress and leave.”

“But at night,” he said. A smirk graced his lips. “At night, that’s when I kiss you between your legs for hours. No matter how devious you’ve been throughout the day, I make you come on my tongue three or four times. And when I’m done with you, I lie back on my bed and watch your mouth sink on my cock. And yes. When I come, I call you Briony. And you love it.”

“The Virgin and the Wolf,” Liam read for the table. Now, that one she had heard of. It was an old fairy story, with a wolf that could smell a virgin’s blood.

“I have more questions. But I know you hate questions—” “I don’t hate questions—” “They put you into a ‘mood’—” “They do not. You put me into a mood.”

“You can’t just sit in a man’s lap and kiss his neck, Rosewood!” She blinked at him, breathing quickly as he dragged a hand through his hair. “And why not? That is precisely what happens at Biltmore—” “That’s Biltmore!” he snapped. “This is here, in my house!” Her eyes were wide as she watched him move toward the exit. “What is your problem? We’re practicing—!” “You cannot be this dense,” he muttered,

“There is a lake with still waters,” Toven’s voice whispered. “A mountain range surrounds it. The waters are deep with hidden secrets, but the water is still.”

“Think of your mind as a library. Shelves upon shelves of novels and journals and biographies,” the voice lulled. “Find an empty shelf for this moment.”

“An empty book in your hands. Its blank pages between your fingers. Write this moment into the book. Give it a title.” The Strawberry-Blonde, her mind supplied. “Fill the pages and close the book.”

“Push it into a corner. Lose it within the piles and piles of texts and novels.” A book’s pages fluttered shut in her mind. It locked. And she breathed deeply, stretching to her tiptoes to push it onto a shelf that was just too tall for her to reach. She imagined a hand with long fingers helping her reach the top.

There was a hole in her stomach the shape of a cannonball, filled with grief and rage and despair. Toven didn’t say a word, simply holding her.

“They’re going to pay for what they did,” she vowed, her voice hollow and misshapen. His gray eyes stared down at her. He moved a curl behind her ear. And he nodded.