Page 115 of Dhampira

My heart knocked against my ribs. What was he saying?

His smile grew, but it wasn’t mocking or cruel. “Even with your gifts, I expect listening will always elude you.” He tilted his head, and a lock of honey-colored hair slipped over his shoulder. “You’ll have to rely on observation when you peer through the walls others erect. But don’t worry, Princess. People say a lot when they’re not speaking, especially when you know where to look. I suggest starting with a mirror.” He offered a slight bow. Then he stepped through the door and into the shadows.

I stared after him, my throat dry and my pulse racing. The large mirror I’d encountered the night of my failed escape appeared in my mind. I’d been so busy surviving my father’s court, I hadn’t thought of it again. I’d let other worries replace it. But maybe I shouldn’t have.

Vander rubbed a hand over his mouth, his expression dark as he eyed the doorway where Ruvien had disappeared. “Just once, I’d love it if he spoke without a bunch of cryptic bullshit.”

“Elves,” Lorcan said, as if that explained everything. Perhaps it did.

Turning to him, I gestured to the vials he held. “Vander got those from Timmon in the maze last night.”

Neither man looked surprised. “You saw us,” Vander said, making it a statement.

“Yes,” I said. “I saw your lips moving, but I couldn’t hear your conversation. Did you use the ‘don’t notice me’ spell?”

“Among others.”

I glanced at the temple doorway. “Ruvien said I can peer through walls. He means wards, right? But he seems to think I can’t hear people speak inside them.”

“Does that make sense to you?” Lorcan asked.

I thought back to his argument with Vander in front of the fountain. I’d seen both men clearly, but only the sound of the fountain’s splashing water had reached me.

“Yes,” I said, “I think he’s right.”

Vander grunted. “Don’t tell him. We’ll never hear the end of it.”

I chewed my lip. “So I can look through wards. I can see magic, but I’m still bound by some of its rules.”

“For now,” Vander said. “Your gifts are unique in the world, Corinthe. Who knows what you’ll be able to do as you get stronger?”

Lorcan’s expression was more cautious. “Perhaps. Elves understand magic in ways we don’t. If Ruvien thinks the limitation is permanent, he’s probably correct.” Lorcan’s mouth tightened as he glanced at Vander. “Zero danger of me telling him that.”

Vander winked at him. Then he brushed a knuckle under my chin. “Seeing through wards is still incredibly useful, Princess. Don’t discount your gifts.” Leaning across me, he took a vial from Lorcan and held it up. “And you may possess others yet.”

My skin tingled from his casual touch. Ignoring the way the sensation threatened to travel lower, I nodded toward the vial. “Are any of those gifts in there?”

Vander gave the vial a little shake, and the reddish liquid caught the sunlight. “The last time I traveled to Ghedda, I asked Timmon to collect blood instead of coin as payment for crossing his bridge. It was a risk, but, as Lorcan said, time isn’t on our side. Just now, Ruvien spelled the vials to allow you to absorb their gifts for a short period. You should be able to say the vor to power the blood. But it’s just for practice. The vor won’t stay on your tongue.”

A horrible suspicion bloomed in my mind. “Did Timmon drain witches to get the blood?”

“No,” Vander said. “These are just samples.” His eyes twinkled, a satisfied smile touching his lips. “It’s actually a clever little strategy on my part—”

“So modest,” Lorcan murmured.

“—since bridge trolls have a thing for blood,” Vander said, ignoring him. “They used to demand it for their potions.” He waved a hand. “Nothing too powerful or exciting. Troll stuff, like repairing supports and widening their bridges. Once Rasimir started hunting the witches, however, the trolls switched to coin and riddles. But a few old-timers still demand blood.” He nodded toward the vials in Lorcan’s hand. “The power in those was dormant until Ruvien. He spelled them to work in short bursts.”

Lorcan tucked the rest of the vials into his pocket. “The idea is that saying the vors and feeling the gifts might wake up your witch magic.”

I looked between them. “When did you plan this?”

“As soon as you struggled with the vor scapa,” Lorcan said. “We can’t hold off Rasimir much longer. You must claim a vor. The vials might help.”

Pieces clicked into place, and I frowned at Vander. “The last time you went to Ghedda, you brought Duncan across the Feyline.”

He nodded, a flash of regret in his eyes. “The farmer was a dead man the moment Rasimir learned his name.”

Guilt swept me. “I think Rasimir has been spying on my dreams. That’s the only way he could have learned of Duncan. His snake is carved into my bed’s headboard, so it must be spelled to invade my mind when I’m unconscious. Delphine seemed to warn me against sleeping in the bed.” I swallowed hard. “I’ve been sleeping in a chair.”