Bright Sorcery: Shadows of Magic

By Natalie Grey

Introducing Book 3 in the SHADOWS OF MAGIC series!

So I've got one of my oldest enemies held in a magical cage, the Acadamh is finally off my back, and I'm finally training to be a druid.

Of course, it isn't quite that simple.

It never is.

Because, you see, I thought I was good at making diabolical plans, but I've just met my match. Druids play a long game, and they're good at smiling while they slide the knife between your ribs.

And in the end … I may have to choose between saving the world and sacrificing everything I love, or saving those I love and letting the world burn.

Either way, I'm going to make the bastards pay with their lives.

From the author of RISK BE DAMNED, a new fantasy series full of magic, snarky druids, kickass heroines, punch-in-the-face worthy villains, and just a dash of romance! Perfect for fans of KF Breene and Rachel Carter!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Philippa Werner
• Release date: Feb 14, 2021
• ISBN: 9781393610632

Natalie Grey

Natalie Grey grew up pretending to be a knight, a mage, a jet-setting international assassin, and, occasionally, a shape-shifting dragon. After reading everything she could get her hands on, she eventually started writing her own stories full of what-ifs and far-fetched occurrences. Born in New England, she currently resides with her two German Shepherd mixes in the frozen wilds of Minnesota.

Book preview

Prologue

The scents of sun-warmed rock and greenery surrounded me, and my boots crunched over strange, flat landscape I strode over.

No matter how many times I came here, I was surprised by it. In the world I had been born to, this place was called the Burren, and it was in a land I had never been to in my life. But whenever I crossed the veil into this strange otherworld—which, depending on your perspective, was either less or more real than the world I called the real world—the landscape shaped itself to look like this.

Why, I didn’t know. Each person who learned to walk the domhan fior, the way of the druids, found their own home within it. When I came here with Daiman, I saw a rich forest, filled with food and soft moss to lay one’s head down on.

Right now, there was only me.

I didn’t trust Daiman to understand what I was doing right now.

Or, to be more accurate, I feared that he would rightly point out it was a terrible idea.

The cage I had created stood not far away. It wasn’t visible from my entry point into the domhan fior—convenient, as it would hardly do for Daiman to figure me out just yet—but the landscape of this world folded itself under a druid’s feet so that walking went more quickly than usual.

It was still strange to think of myself as a druid.

That’s what I was, though: a druid-in-training. The magic I had used over my lifetime up until now—over many lifetimes—flowed in my blood. Now, however, I was learning to use the magic of the world.

Which was a bit of a problem, because as far as I could see, a real druid would be doing what I was currently doing.

I came to a halt before the cage and watched as the thunderstorm trapped within coalesced from a roiling mass of clouds into a human man.

Philip Allaire stared at me with scarcely-concealed dislike, and I smiled back. It was a genuine smile. His dislike, while dangerous, was at least honest. It was his sweet words and faux-adoration I couldn’t stand.

Philip had always liked the idea of me more than the reality.

So, I said to him. I met his blue eyes and raised an eyebrow. Shall we start again?

Philip groaned. He tipped back his head for a moment before giving me a long-suffering look. No, he said, artfully weary. I beg of you. Keep it up, and at this rate I’ll die of boredom.

I ignored that and began to pace around the cage, clasping my hands behind my back.

Tell me your plans for enacting the Monarchy. Centuries ago, I had hatched a plan to kill most of the humans on the planet and enslave the rest, and he had been my most loyal follower. We thought our magic gave us the right to do anything with them that we pleased. And while I had changed over the years, he had not—it had been only a few months ago that I had found him attempting to brew another plague.

And it wasn’t the sort of thing someone could do alone, which meant I needed to know who his allies were. I needed to know who else supported his Monarchy.

He, of course, wasn’t inclined to tell me.

No, he said, almost idly. He leaned against the bars of the cage and traced one finger down the magical bars, all affected ease and boredom.

I kept my face straight. I had anticipated this, I told myself. This was always how it went: I came here, I threw suggestions at Philip, and though he denied all of them, I sometimes saw a flash of something like wariness in his eyes.

I had learned to use that wariness as a guide, but it was slow going. All of this was guesswork, and there was only so long one could try to anticipate a power-hungry maniac before one started thinking like a power-hungry maniac. Which was dangerous.

The issue was somewhat complicated by the fact that I’d always had inclinations in that direction, anyway.

But I had to figure it out. Philip Allaire was slippery, a total megalomaniac, and charming to boot—if he got free, he would go back to trying to take over the world, and he’d easily find recruits to his schemes.

I wasn’t going to solve this problem entirely on my own. I didn’t take the lead on solving problems like this anymore. I no longer had any interest in ruling the world, or at least that was what I told myself.

I was just going to get his confession, and pass it along to those who could deconstruct the remnants of Philip’s death cult.

Then I’d be done with the whole mess, and I’d never have to deal with him again. Probably because someone would have executed him.

That thought always came with a little flutter of dread, and I wasn’t quite sure why.

I ignored it and stared him down. You intended to distribute the plague without relying on courts and kings, but you knew that wasn’t going to kill enough humans. So what were you planning for the rest?

Philip smiled at me. Guess, he suggested. His gaze, as always, lingered on me just a bit too intimately.

Once, back in the days when I’d been trying to conquer the world with the Black Plague and a small army of followers, Philip and I had been lovers. It was a fact he never let me forget. And while some might have stopped at reminders of our physical relationship, Philip was cleverer than that.

He liked to remind me that he’d known me better than anyone else in the world. It was a fact that unsettled me, and he knew it.

I don’t need to guess. I got the words out between gritted teeth. You’re doing what you always do, lying to everyone—to your followers about how much power you’ll let them have, to potential followers about how we’re all going to be killed if we don’t follow you … and to humans, about whatever you’re planning for them. I know you. You’ll be courting their politicians, promising them anything you think they want.

His eyes flashed as I spoke, and then he gave me a terrible smile.

You’re wrong, he said simply.

About which part?

More than one. For a moment, I thought he would turn away from me like a petulant child, to make me chase him around the cage from the outside, but instead he just watched me, taunting me to come fight him. He knew I couldn’t get into the cage without breaking the bars, and I knew he was ready to seize his chance at freedom whenever he got it.

What do you want from me? I spat the words at him without thinking.

Not exactly the sort of thing the interrogator was supposed to ask.

You know exactly what I want. His eyes burned on mine. You. I want you, Nicola.

Oh, not this again. I took a step toward him and checked myself. No. You don’t. You keep finding that out, and you still won’t accept it. You don’t actually like me.

No? Then why am I chasing after you, time after time? He wrapped his hands around the bars of the cage. Why do I still talk to you, after weeks in this cage? Why am I still trying to get you back into my life?

I threw my hands up in the air in frustration. "Because you spent over six-hundred years convincing yourself that I was some perfect woman! Back when you didn’t actually have to deal with me, you got to tell yourself I was someone you really wanted around. You got to forget how much we hated one another."

Because we had. Deep down, back in the day, Philip and I had both understood that there was only room for one mass-murdering, all-powerful psychopath, and there were two of us. I, indisputably the leader of the Monarchist movement, had always known that he craved my power at least as much as he craved me—and he, always second in command, had known that if I were only out of the way….

We didn’t hate one another. Philip gave me a look. You knew that without me around, you’d go soft, you’d leave your back open. You knew that I would protect you from anyone and anything.

Except yourself.

Naturally. He gave me a brilliant smile. You knew you didn’t have to worry about anyone else … but you knew you couldn’t get sloppy and you couldn’t get weak. You knew I’d take over if you did. It’s why we succeeded for so long. Who could get close to you? Who could take you down? If Eshe hadn’t helped Terric, no one would have managed it.

I sighed. As the Black Plague raged in Europe, my one-time teacher had taught a young sorcerer everything she knew about me—my foibles, my flaws, even the story of my early childhood. Armed with that knowledge, Terric Delaney had been able to worm his way into my confidence.

While Philip was away, of course.

Lost in memory, I only barely heard the distant sound of his voice. I looked back at him with a frown.

What?

"I said, I didn’t hate you, either. Blue eyes traced over me. You were the best. You were a thing of perfect beauty. I didn’t take your place because I knew I couldn’t—you would have killed me, and you would have been right to. I still had too much to learn from you. I could never have brought myself to kill you."

Until someday…. I whispered. I let the sentence hang in the air: until someday, wanting my place was enough to blind you to that fact, and you stabbed me in the back anyway.

He knew exactly what I meant, and his eyes were far, far too warm on mine. Never, he whispered back, and his promise slid under my defenses with ease.

For a moment, I was taken in. That was the terrifying part to me. It was part of why this was a terrible idea. I wanted to believe him.

Then I came to my senses.

I shook my head at him, Don’t you see? I want someone I can trust. I could never trust you.

"But you can trust him? Philip’s voice was thick with condescension. The druid?"

Yes!

And so you want to be happy with him because you think you can trust him. He looked heavenwards for a moment. Now which one of us is using wishful thinking?

"I am happy with him because I can trust him. I gave him a look. That’s the way that causality runs."

You can’t. Philip lifted his shoulders. "And you know it. Because you aren’t someone who can trust people like that. He’s honorable, Nicola. He wants what’s best for everyone, no matter how stupid that is—"

It isn’t stupid, I tried to break in.

But there was no stopping Philip now. His power was beginning to spark and jump around the cage. The hair on my arms was standing up, and even the sky of the domhan fior was taking on the dangerously soft quality of the air before a wrath-of-God storm.

You know people are fools waiting to be led, he told me furiously. "You know they’re selfish and cruel and they’ll take anything they don’t understand and rip it to shreds if they can. You lived that!" His voice had risen to a hoarse yell and he tugged at the bars of the cage as if to rattle them.

The fact that they were magic, and immune to his strength, didn’t even seem to make a dent. He couldn’t see the cage, he could only see me.

Leave my family out of this. I didn’t know where those words came from, but I didn’t want to hear another account of my childhood right now. What happened to me was unfortunate, but—

To you? To all of us. You weren’t the only one they did that to. For the first time, I saw something vulnerable in his eyes. I saw betrayal and hurt and both of them made my heart ache. You used to understand that, he told me. You used to fight for us. You’ve forgotten that now.

I looked away from him.

That isn’t … you’re judging humans based on the worst of them. And when we tried to forge the Monarchy, we really were everything they feared.

Because they drove us to it, Philip whispered.

It’s not that simple. And it wasn’t right.

You say those words, he told me, and that means you and your druid friend both get to pretend you’re someone else now. But someday, the real you is going to come out, the you who sees the world as it is, not as some fool wants it to be, and you’re going to know what has to be done—and on that day? He’s going to turn on you.

I dug my nails into my palms until my hands ached. You’re wrong.

I’m right, and you know it. He shrugged. You know it, I know it, all the druids know it—they’re never going to let you be a druid, by the way—and the rest of the world knows it, too. Your Daiman is probably the only one who doesn’t know it yet. You want my advice?

I really don’t.

Kill the poor bastard before he has a chance to see you for what you really are, Philip advised. And stop trying to figure out my plans. You don’t need to interrogate me, I’ll tell you everything you want to know—as soon as you accept the truth of the way the world works, and who you really are.

I turned around and walked away without an answer.

Figure it out soon, he called after me. Because if you don’t, the plan’s going to happen with or without me, and then you’ll be cut out of it forever.

I turned back at that. I don’t think that’s true, I told him. "I think any plan you’ve made will need you at the center of it. You don’t have any principles, Philip. You don’t stand for anything. If you won’t be there to rule over the humans, you don’t care what happens to them. So I think if you’re not going to tell me what you’re up to, I’ll just leave you here to rot … forever."

I savored the flash of fear in his eyes, and as I strode back into the real world, I tried not to think about the fact that I might just be the monster he claimed I was.

1

The more comfortable I got with finding the domhan fior , the easier it became to slip between the worlds gently.

I didn’t, any longer, find myself stumbling over a rock that had suddenly come into being. Instead, the real world returned as sand in the cracks of the rock beneath my feet, and a few sprigs of dune grass, and the half-seen shapes of gulls circling high above.

The northern coast of France was beautiful in a bleak way at times, prone to rocky beaches and cliffs that looked out over the English Channel. In the mornings, when mist crept quietly over the landscape and the wind moaned over the tides, it was a place for introspection.

For wondering if you were making terrible choices.

They’re never going to let you be a druid, by the way.

Damn Philip. Damn him for knowing exactly what to say to make me doubt myself. He had spent years learning what sentiments made me angry, or how to inspire me to revenge.

Even caged, he was too dangerous to me. Whatever he was planning, I wasn’t intending to go talk to him again.

I’d hand him back to the Acadamh when Daiman and I returned from the Comhairle. If they didn’t accept me for training, that would be almost immediately.

If they did accept me, it would be decades, and it would serve Philip right to wait that long.

I saw the glow of our campfire before I saw Daiman. He was hard at work on the boat that was going to carry us across the channel, though I knew from the sudden awareness in his manner that he had heard me return.

You know, it’s a magic boat. I came to perch on a boulder next to him. And it’ll be sailing on magic seas. I don’t think it needs to be in perfect repair.

His eyes met mine briefly, but he didn’t say anything to that. He finished one patch and began to run his hands over the rest of the hull.

You left early, he commented. His tone was neutral, but I could hear the question.

Practicing my trances. The lie was easy. I had planned it, and it had some truth to it. Accessing the domhan fior was technically a thing that required practice. I still can’t sense wind. That, I told myself firmly, was also true, even if it didn’t relate at all to what I’d just been doing.

Daiman’s expression said he sensed the half-truths, but he didn’t tackle it head on.

He never did. It unsettled me more than if he had, which might have been his goal. The man was sneaky.

Instead he asked me, Have you thought about what you’d like to try first for shifting forms?

For what now?

Taking on another animal’s form, he said patiently.

I … no. I drew my knees up to my chest and wrapped my arms around them, staring at him warily. I don’t really want to … I mean … I don’t have to worry about that for a while, do I?

He sat back on his heels and stared at me bemusedly. Do you not want to learn that?

"Well, no."

Why not?

I gave him a look. It seemed a reasonable enough stance to me, but