Free Enchanter's Echo by Anise Rae Page A

I needed it off. I couldn’t be a senator. The Senate is a violent place. I can’t do any spells to protect myself.” Her sad eyes filled again with tears. She hunched over, more fragile than ever. She’d been haunted by this for a long time.
    Aurora remembered what her father had looked like in his last years. His insanity bled through his face—craggily lines, wide eyes, bared teeth. His metal eye. His energy vibrated with a sharpness she’d never sensed in anyone else.
    “You must have been desperate,” Aurora whispered. As desperate as he’d been.
    “My sentry…” Bronte whispered. “It wasn’t his fault.”
    Aurora shook her head. The room spun. No, it wouldn’t have been his fault, despite the fact that the sentry had stabbed her father in the heart. Aurora hadn’t skimped on reading the details in the newspapers. She couldn’t afford to. Not when he’d died with her metal eye.
    A tear dripped down Bronte’s pale cheek.
    “You didn’t know, Bronte.” Allison entwined her fingers with Bronte’s in consolation. “We need Edmund. He’ll fix this.” She shook the charm bracelet on her wrist. Calling charms jingled among diamonds and rubies—a rich girl’s version of Aurora’s battered calling charms that were usually clumped together in her pocket. “Edmund,” Allison called, still shaking the charm bracelet. “We’re in the bathroom. Come.”
    Bronte grabbed Allison’s wrist, silencing the jingles. “No. I don’t need Edmund to bail me out again.” She shook her head. “A man died because of my ignorance.”
    “My father knew what he was doing.” Aurora cut her off as an unwanted compassion trickled in. “He knew exactly what would happen.” He’d known every metal in the universe as if he’d been born with the knowledge. But he probably hadn’t thought…or cared…that this woman would feel guilty for her part in his death for months afterwards. “The rebound from the medallion would have been deadly.”
    Bronte shook her head. Another tear spilled.“I passed out. If I’d been awake, I would’ve stopped my sentry when he came in. He was doing his job, protecting me. When I woke up, the knife was….”
    He’d already been dead from the rebound…that was Aurora’s guess. The knife had been a message. A practice she was familiar with. How many knives had the Nobles left in their enemies during her time there? The hilts were always marked with the letter N . They’d wanted everyone to know who’d done the murderous deeds. Casteel’s sentries would have wanted the same. No one messed with their senator and got away with it. Even when she brought it on herself in innocence.
    Aurora shuddered at Bronte’s sorrow. Her vibes clamored at the edge of her skin, at the edge of her control, wanting to wrap around the syphon’s pain and mend it.
    If only she could do the same for her own grief. But she couldn’t. Her consolation was in repairing others, a poor substitute sometimes, but it was the best she could do. She surrendered.
    Her vibes fluttered away, soaking the air and coalescing around the syphon. Unlike her nervous glitter, no visible signs appeared, but the energy of joy wove among them, strong and focused.
    “What are you doing?” Allison asked, squinting. “I know what this is! It’s an enchantress’s goody-goody vibes.”
    Aurora arched an eyebrow, almost embarrassed for her. No one in the Republic called them that. Edmund’s cousin certainly didn’t have the stiff upper lip of the founders.
    “She forgives you, Bronte! I see it in her aura.” Allison threw her arms out with glee. “We’re friends!”
    Bronte’s expression remained drawn and sorrowful.
    “Oh. You can’t feel her, can you?” Allison said and then tilted her head at Aurora. “She can only feel Vinny’s vibes. That’s a syphon for you. Poor girl is really missing out. You’ll have to give Bronte a hug instead.”
    Repairing Bronte’s grief with her power would have allowed Aurora