Free Chantress Alchemy by Amy Butler Greenfield

still, as one does with a wild animal about to strike. If Wrexham knew about my closely guarded ruby, what other secrets had he unlocked?
    Wrexham’s pale eyes never left my face. “I know this, too: You still have power—enormous power. You can call up mist; you can make it rain. By God, you held off the King’s own guard by yourself.” His mouth twisted in fury. “How dare you tell the King you cannot help him right now? How dare you tell him he must wait?”
    I recoiled.
    “Confess,” he hissed. “You are lying. You are shielding the thief: Walbrook.”
    “No,” I said. “No, I—” How to explain myself, without getting lost again in a wrangle about Nat’s innocence, or revealing even more than Wrexham already knew about my magic? “I am not trying to shield anyone. It is just that finding the crucible isn’t as simple as you think. I need the right song, for a start. And I don’t yet have it.”
    “Then find it!” He swung even closer to me, cutting off most of the light. “We need that crucible, Chantress. So find your song and sing it.” His hand flexed on the hilt of his dagger, rings bulging like carbuncles. “And don’t think you can use your magic against me. I have ways of protecting myself, believe me. I’ve dealt with your kind before, remember.”
    How could I forget? I forced myself to stand straight. I must not let him see how he frightened me. I must not. I must not.
    “And remember this, too.” His voice was low and full of menace. “If I had eyes and ears in Norfolk, I have even more here at Court. I am watching you every minute, every hour, every day. So do not cross me.”

CHAPTER TEN
THE SECRET ROOM
    Having made his threats, Wrexham left, still fingering his dagger.
    I sagged against the wall. I burned to show him that I could not be crossed either. Yet if I used magic against him, what would that lead to? Wrexham was the King’s man, and it would not be wise to displease the King. And any enchantment I worked would surely be traced back to me. It was best if I did nothing—for now.
    Still, there was comfort in remembering that I had real power here, even if I didn’t choose to use it.
    But what was it Wrexham had said about protecting himself? I tried to remember his exact words. I’d never heard of a way to guard against Chantress magic—unless it was by killing a Chantress or preventing her from singing, as Scargrave had done. Was that what Wrexham had meant?
    Maybe. But there was so much about Chantress magic that I did not know, so much knowledge that had been lost or stolen.After his many years of Chantress-hunting, Wrexham might well know more about my kind than I did myself.
    Perhaps Wrexham really could protect himself against my magic. I would have to assume, for now, that it was possible.
    And assume, too, that wherever I went, he was watching me.
    †    †    †
    After the bruising encounter with Wrexham, I intended to go straight to my room, but his threats had thrown me off balance, and I took one wrong turn after another. Before I knew it, I was lost in a part of the palace I hadn’t seen before.
    Going around a corner, I found myself in a frigid chamber with massive stone pillars, dimly lit by two flickering candelabras. When a hand touched my arm, I jolted around in fright.
    “Sorry!” Nat whispered, releasing me. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”
    Right then and there, I almost spilled out what Wrexham had said to me. But then I thought about how hotheaded Nat had been in the Council meeting, and how his impulsiveness had led to trouble. If I told Nat about Wrexham’s threats, would he rush off to confront the man? That would only antagonize Wrexham—and make matters worse for both Nat and me. I decided I’d better keep the Marcher Lord’s threats to myself, at least for now.
    “I’ve been looking for you,” Nat said. “I couldn’t come close after the meeting. Everyone was watching.”
    “I know.” I’d kept away from him for