[Morgana’s POV]
The door to my study slams shut behind me with a satisfying thud that rattles the ancient tomes stacked precariously on every surface. I lean against it, my chest heaving, my dark staff clutched in my white-knuckled grip. The silence of the room presses against my ears, broken only by the frantic pounding of my heart.
“Silentium,” I whisper, channeling a quick burst of mana through the staff. The spell ripples through the air, settling over the room like a heavy blanket. I place my staff carefully in its stand, making sure the obsidian tip doesn’t scratch the polished wood. Old habits die hard, even when your entire world is collapsing.
I close my eyes, drawing in one long, shuddering breath. Then I let it out in a scream that would shatter glass if not for my spell.
“FUCK! FUUUUUUCKKKKKKKK! FUCK! FUCK! FUCK!” My voice cracks as I pace the narrow path between stacks of books. “I CAN’T BELIEVE IT!”
My hand shoots out, snatching a ceramic mug from my desk. I hurl it at the wall with all my strength. It explodes in a shower of brown clay and cold tea, the liquid dripping down the stone like blood from a wound.
“The spell worked perfectly, but he already has a fucking girlfriend!” I collapse into my chair, burying my face in my hands. “All that preparation, all those months of research, and I summon the perfect man only to find him already claimed!”
I run my fingers through my hair, tugging at the roots in frustration. The parameters I set for the summoning spell were specific. Painfully specific. A man who would be a perfect match for me. Someone with kindness in his eyes, gentleness in his touch, but not the simpering weakness of the men in this world. Someone who could look at me and see a person, not just a powerful mage to be feared. And of course most of all someone begging to be conquered.
The way Christopher looks at Brooke. It’s exactly what I’ve been craving my entire life. That mixture of devotion and desire, the way his eyes soften when they meet hers, the subtle way he leans into her touch. I’ve spent countless nights imagining a man looking at me that way, and now I’ve found him, only to discover he’s already giving those looks to someone else.
“AHHHHHHHHH!” I scream again, throwing my hands up in the air. My fingers curl into claws, and I want to tear something apart. “How could he already be taken? How is that possible? This isn’t fair!”
I pace back and forth, my robes swirling around my ankles as I move. My heart hammers against my ribs, and I can feel heat rising in my cheeks. After several minutes of this, I finally collapse into my chair, breathing heavily, my chest rising and falling in rapid succession.
“Did I fuck up the spell?” I whisper, suddenly seized by doubt. I lunge for the stack of notes on my desk, grabbing them with trembling hands. My eyes dart frantically from left to right, scanning each line of my meticulously crafted summoning parameters.
“No, no, it’s perfect,” I mutter, tracing my finger along the arcane symbols I’d spent months perfecting. “Just like anything I do. The spell was flawless.”
I set the notes down, a new thought forming in my mind. “Then if Christopher is taken, perhaps the universe is telling me something?” I tap my finger against my lips, considering the implications. “I’ve already personally witnessed loopholes in the cursed mark, haven’t I?”
I start biting my nails, a nervous habit I thought I’d broken years ago.
“If I can get him to cheat,” I whisper to myself, a smile spreading across my face. “Which I know I can... the spell guaranteed we’re perfect for each other after all.”
I stand up, pacing again, but this time with purpose. “And if no one would know it’s with me. No one would ever want him then.” I laugh, the sound echoing off the walls of my study. “Even a cursed hero is still a disgraced man, is he not?”
I catch my reflection in the polished surface of my staff, and I don’t recognize the woman staring back at me. Her eyes are wild, her smile stretched too wide, too unhinged. But I don’t care. This is the solution I’ve been searching for.
“If he’s marked by those idiotic, lazy goddesses, then it’ll be no problem at all. In fact, maybe this is a blessing in disguise.”
The more I think about it, the more perfect it becomes. A marked man would be completely dependent on me.
“All I need to do is create the right circumstances. The right moment. The right... temptation.”
“This might even be fun…”