Illusions: Paranormal Shapeshifter Romance (The Seekers Book 1) by Carina Wilder Page B

capture was odious. But Circe had never been one to fume, to hold grudges. She was inquisitive to the core, much like her raven counterpart, and found herself questioning the Guild’s motivation, their thoughts. Was there goodness in them? Perhaps there was a way to reason with their kind.
    Sera knew more about the Guild than she did, and Circe supposed that because her sister was older, she’d kept the ugly details to herself. And perhaps it was for the best—she didn’t entirely want to know if she was about to have her head sliced off. There was no rune of healing sufficient to cure decapitation.
    A small, barred window allowed light to flow in, creating a small, square patch of glowing sunlight on the floor made of worn-down wooden slats. In it Circe managed to see beauty; warmth. And also hope. Serafina would find a way to get to her, just as she’d found a way to break her fever. Never once had her sister failed her.
    The sound of shuffling feet distracted her and she turned to the cell’s door, her dark eyes set as she resolved to remain calm, regardless of what might be in store for her.
    The door opened, revealing three men: the one who had taken her, she supposed, then the kind young man with light hair and blue eyes, and a third, older man, dressed in a dark robe which trailed on the ground. His hair was grey and matted, sitting about his shoulders. His eyes were bright yellow, which made his skin look grey, haggard.
    The light-haired man who had removed her hood still looked apologetic now, as though he wished himself anywhere but this place. The other two remained expressionless.
    “Do you know why you’re here?” asked the older man as he stepped inside the cell.
    Circe remained perched on her stump. “I’m afraid I don’t,” she said calmly. “But I suspect that you’ll tell me.”
    “You are one of the Sisterhood,” the man said. “You have the Old Magic in you.”
    Circe didn’t respond.
    “Normally, we would tell you that you are here to engage in a ceremony that we call the Ritual, to give our men their powers. But in your case things are a little different from the usual.”
    The Ritual? Was that like the Bonding ceremony of the sisters?
    “Your sister, Serafina, is powerful, we hear.” The man paused as though awaiting confirmation. “We want her to come to us willingly, to join us. It is clear from observing her over time that she is strong-willed and stubborn. But also clear is that she will do whatever she needs to to protect you.”
    “That’s true,” said Circe, unable to help herself.
    “Good, good. You see, you, my dear, are a bargaining tool. In return for your life, we want your sister to mate with two of our men.”
    The young woman bit her lip to stifle a laugh. Sera would never agree to such a thing; it was difficult enough to persuade her that one man was a good idea. The notion of two would drive her insane. She was not one to hand her body over as though it were a coin, to trade for goods and services.
    “Our Ritual is a tradition that goes back thousands of years. Men and women alike have benefited from its results, gaining strength and powers that most can only dream of.”
    “So tell me, sir, have your men always kidnapped women in order to rape them and then called it tradition?”
    The unapologetic man took a step forward as though ready to strike Circe. In the distance, Obsidian let out a shrill cry.
    “A woman performing her duty cannot be called the victim of rape,” said the older of the men. “As your sister will discover.”
    “Well, good luck to you.” Circe rose at last and walked to the window. Obsidian was perched at the top of a tall tree about twenty feet away.
    “Is that all you have to say?” asked the man.
    “Almost. If you think that you can convince my sister to give her body to your men, you are sorely mistaken. She is not the sort who takes such things lightly.”
    “We’ll see,” said the man before turning, his robe sweeping