Wulfyddia (The Tattersall Trilogy Book 1) by Steele Alexandra Read Free Book Online Page A

everything from her, even the mornings
when she woke crying from the pain of having Felunhala constantly plucking at
her power, stripping away Melisande’s life force whenever and wherever it
pleased her.
    Melisande
could not keep a grimace from overtaking her face, and she rested her forehead
in her hand for a moment before forcing herself to straighten up. As she stood,
a book that had been open on her lap fell to the floor, the sound muffled by
the luxuriously thick furs that cushioned its fall. Melisande slipped on her
slippers and reached for the book, handling it gently for there was no knowing
how old it was. She couldn’t remember which book it was, until she flipped it
over to examine the cover. The lines on her brow eased. Ah, she recalled it
now. It was one of Felunhala’s bestiaries. Melisande had been searching for an
answer to the origin of those little creatures that had sprung so suddenly from
the flame.
    She
stared down at the page, at the intricacies of the beautifully inked
illustrations. The information it provided was rather less beautiful. The
creatures she’d created were Salamanders, not those of rivers or lakes, but
those of fire. They could only be conjured, not born, and somehow, in some
moment of power burning over bright, she had accidentally summoned a clutch of
them into being.
    She was
disturbed by her lack of control, by the evidence that she had not mastered
herself quite as well as she would like. She tried to separate herself from the
sorrows of her past, from the occasional anguish of her current existence, but
it was hard, and sometimes her emotions trampled her constraints. But all of
this was irrelevant. It was late in the morning, and there were a slew of tasks
that needed doing. Salamanders or not, nightmare or not, there was a long day
ahead of her, and a temperamental witch to appease. But, before she started on
the day’s tasks, she wanted to test the cabinet.
    Given
Melisande’s vital importance to the Castle Witch, she had free reign throughout
most of the witch’s chambers. She was permitted to browse Felunahala’s entire
library, including the oldest and the most delicate of the books. She had
access to most of her mistress’s equipment, from the most powerful of the wands
to the most fragile of the crystals. Felunhala’s dependence on Melisande’s
skill had forced her to share much with her apprentice. There was, however, one
cabinet standing in the corner of the witch’s study which was entirely
off-limits to her apprentice. It was rather unassuming in appearance, a simple
gray cabinet with a single lock which was always fastened. Melisande knew
because she tried the handle on a regular basis. It had become a regular part
of her morning routine, on the days when Felunhala wasn’t hovering over her
shoulder. In the morning, Melisande washed her hair, lit the hearth, and tested
the cabinet to see if it was unlocked. So far, Felunhala had not slipped up
once.
    Melisande
wasn’t sure what she expected to find in the cabinet. She hadn’t the faintest
idea what she hoped to find. Yet, as vague as her suspicions were, she
could not help but test the lock every morning. Lately she had begun having
nightmares about that small wooden cabinet and the contents within. Last time
she’d dreamt of a deathly pale hand, fingers bony, nails sharp, which reached
out of the cabinet and straight for her throat. The memory still gave her
chills, and it was almost enough to keep her from testing the lock this
morning. But somehow, despite her trepidation, she found herself drawn to the
cabinet. Her fingers closed over the handle, and she twisted her wrist to turn
it but it would not budge. The lock was engaged.
    It
wasn’t the lock itself which kept her out. It was the charm which was activated
when the lock slipped into place. Despite the power of the spell, Melisande had
no doubt that she was strong enough to fight her way through it, but Felunhala
would know the minute that she