Free The Etsey Series 1: The Seventh Veil by Heidi Cullinan

Jonathan on his left, the strange woman on his right. Jonathan moved haltingly because of his injury; the woman had no trouble at all, not even with the walls. If Jonathan nudged her toward one, she simply went through it. And from Jonathan’s extraordinary lack of reaction to a gold-glowing woman of astonishing height walking through walls, Timothy had to assume he couldn’t see her, which probably meant he hadn’t heard her speak, either.
    Timothy tried to frown. This didn’t make sense.
    The woman tightened her hand on Timothy’s arm. “This is not the time for questions. This is the time for trust. Your friend has asked you to cede to his wisdom in this matter. It will go badly for everyone if you fail to do this.”
    Timothy wanted to ask who she was, to demand she explain what was going on, but he didn’t, in part because he knew she would just admonish him again, and in part because he felt so heavy. Jonathan made it look as if it were he leaning on Timothy as they came down the stairs and entered the pub room, but despite his mira’s injuries, it was the other way around. Timothy felt as if he were barely holding on, as if he might slide away at any moment. Sometimes he thought he could see it, a black chasm that opened up beneath his feet, a sucking darkness that would have claimed him were it not for Jonathan on the one side and the strange golden creature on the other.
    It isn’t logical ! Timothy wanted to shout. He whimpered instead.
    “Do not fight it, or you will be sucked down and much will be lost, Raturjula,” the woman said.
    Jonathan leaned over as well, whispering to him as they passed through the now crowded pub room toward the door. “This will be my brother Charles outside, Timothy. We have an odd, unfortunate history. It’s strange that he is here. He swore he would never come again, and I don’t blame him.” He nodded to the curious eyes watching them, then spoke in Catalian. “The people here are very provincial. They fancy themselves religious because they have a powerful witch in residence, a witch so powerful she is on the witches’ Council. This particular parish is very, very pious. They are strict with rules and order. Aberrations frighten them, but fortunately for us, my family frightens them more. We are their ruling House, and the people know our history, and unlike most parishes, Rothborne still believes in the old magic because they see it every day. You have an advantage in being my equerry. If anything happens to me, produce your seal. Use it to command safe haven.”
    Jonathan kept speaking, his voice a soothing monotone, an anchor Timothy could hang his aching mind on. Jonathan, he knew, was simply trying to keep him occupied—telling him things, giving him information, yes, but mostly just talking to engage him. He was whispering now, but he did not stop talking. “Now we are out the door,” Jonathan was saying. “Now we are at the inn yard. I see my brother ahead. Hold on, Timothy. Hold fast.”
    Timothy’s head lolled as he tried to lift it to see. He wanted to see the man again. “Something wrong with him,” he croaked in Catalian. “With your brother. Needs help.”
    “Shh,” Jonathan said. “Remember, we are here to do whatever the alchemist wants. You won’t break his spell, and you won’t fight it. We are cooperating.”
    I want to help. I want to help your brother . The black chasm opened before him again in his mind’s eye, and he felt himself starting to go down.
    The woman pulled hard and fast on his arm. “You will have your moment to offer assistance to the beloved, but this is not that moment.”
    She had spoken in Catalian, and yet it was dialect he had never heard, containing strange echoes that seemed to go back to the dawn of time. The beloved? He frowned at her, but she only smiled and reached up to stroke his face.
    “Daghata, Raturjula D’lor.”
    Timothy frowned harder at that, because that was the second time she’d called him