Curse of the Celts Clara O'Connor (new reading txt) 📖

is that?” the Briton at my back challenged. “Because they feel threatened by it? Because they can’t control it? Enlighten me.”

“Is magic the solution to everything in your world?” Marcus returned. “I don’t think so, because magic doesn’t run in everyone’s veins, does it? Magic is held by the few to rule over the many. Control of magic is firmly in the hands of those at the top of your feudal society. The Empire is far more meritocratic. Your life isn’t dictated by the colour of your blood or your skin; the intelligent, the strong, the driven can make something of themselves. Technology is available to all. Magic is not.”

Devyn’s head went back and he threw his arms wide.

“This society is a meritocracy? Do you truly believe that, Marcus Plantagenet Courtenay?” He emphasised Marcus’s full name. “You are the single most entitled man on this island. A prince of the city, a prince amongst my people. What do you know of merit?”

Marcus stood abruptly, furious.

“My birth is not my fault.” His voice was loud in the small space. “I have done everything in my power to do what I can to help others. And you’re right. What has it got me? My Plantagenet blood is the reason I was matched to a Wilder foundling in order to give them control… over magic. My Courtenay heritage drove me to help my fellow citizens who will spill my blood on the sand for that very help.”

There was no answer to that. He was right. Devyn didn’t want to like Marcus, but that didn’t mean he had done anything to deserve it. Silence descended on the cell, and Marcus swung away when Devyn had no response for him.

Eventually, footsteps heralded the arrival of our morning meal and Marcus quenched the light – mentally, this time. When the guard arrived and opened the cell door, he saw our food remained untouched from the night before. Throwing us a sour look, he put some unappetizing porridge on the floor and left immediately, unlike the evening before. He must have clarified his instructions on how to proceed; no dilemma today about whether or not he should leave us in the dark.

The hours ticked by slowly as we waited for the Mete to reconvene. We sat in silence, contemplating the evening ahead. So far, we had a one-for-two conviction rate with a death sentence. Marcus believed that the city might vote in my favour. I wasn’t so convinced, and if Matthias was to be believed, it wouldn’t matter anyway. Whatever happened out on the sand, there was no future in which Governor Actaeon would allow us to live if he had any say in it. Which of course he did.

The sentinels came to collect us at the allotted time, tying our hands in front of us – a new precaution against wielding magic, I guessed, now that we had stopped eating their food and thereby consuming the inhibitor they laced it with. Once we were secure, Praetorian Alvar entered the room, his head tilting as he surveyed us with satisfaction.

“Nice to see you all where you belong.” He smiled his quick, fake smile – or rather, produced the baring of teeth he believed passed for a smile. “I’m informed that you failed to eat the food provided. Such a big day, are you sure you don’t care for it?”

He pushed the tray towards us with his foot.

“Too kind,” Marcus answered for us with impeccable manners. “We’re all fine, thank you.”

Alvar bared his teeth again. “I thought you might say that. No matter.”

At that, Kasen, Alvar’s ever-present sidekick, entered the room. Despite our current circumstances, I felt oddly relieved to see that Kasen had suffered no repercussions from having lost us the night of the pre-wedding revels. Although, as I now knew, he hadn’t lost us at all. In fact, they had been in the exact right spot outside the wall waiting for us. How had they got there before us if they had been following us? It seemed that Marcus’s defection to our cause hadn’t been as much of a surprise to the authorities as it had to Devyn and me.

Kasen was carrying a covered tray which he presented to the senior praetorian. Alvar lifted the cover to reveal three syringes, one for each of us. Devyn immediately began to struggle with the guard holding him, and two more guards entered at the commotion. He pulled away from his guard and rushed at the two incoming sentinels but, bound as he was, he was no match for them, and was quickly tackled to the ground where the three of them pinned him down. He made no sound, but his dark glare was filled with hate and defiance as Alvar injected him in the arm through the sleeve of his black shirt.

“Hold him down,” Alvar instructed as he turned away, and handed a fresh syringe to Kasen before turning to Marcus. “Do I need to invite more guards to join us?”

In reply, Marcus merely turned his shoulder towards the praetorian who had always been so courteous when he had been on my protection detail. Marcus stood unmoving, staring into the middle distance, as Kasen injected him in his upper arm.

Kasen picked up the last syringe and made his way to me. Devyn started to struggle against the guards who held him down. Alvar crossed the cell and kicked him in the stomach with his heavy boots. I felt the pain caused by the blow and whimpered.

“Wild animals will not be tolerated in the city, dog,” he said, kicking Devyn a second time before he had managed to gain his breath from the first blow. I folded over at the second blow.

Turning, Alvar found Marcus now standing in front of me. He quirked a brow at my protector.

“Marcus, it’s fine. I’m fine,” I said, though I had backed myself up against the wall. Marcus ground his teeth and stood aside, letting Alvar pass.

“Donna Shelton.” Alvar nodded to me as