Keeper of Enchanted Rooms

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Published by 47North, Seattle

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ISBN-13: 9781662500343 (paperback)

ISBN-13: 9781662500336 (digital)

Cover design by Faceout Studio, Lindy Martin

Cover illustration by Christina Chung

To Jeff Wheeler.

Thank you for the help, the charisma, the opportunities, and the permission to be a diva once a week.

CONTENTS

MAP

DOCTRINES OF MAGIC

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

DOCTRINES OF MAGIC

Augury • Soothsaying, fortune-telling, divination, luck

Repercussion: forgetfulness

Associated mineral: amethyst

Psychometry • Mind reading, hallucination, empathy, intuition

Repercussion: dulling of senses

Associated mineral: azurite

Conjury • Creation, summoning of natural components

Repercussion: loss of equal worth to summoned object

Associated mineral: pyrite

Necromancy • Death/life magic, life force, disease/healing

Repercussion: nausea

Associated mineral: turquoise

Wardship • Shielding, protection, spell-turning

Repercussion: weakening of physical body

Associated mineral: tourmaline

Element • Manipulation of fire, water, earth, or air

Repercussion: fire, chill; water, dryness; earth, vertigo; air, shortness of breath

Associated mineral: clear quartz

Alteration • Shape-shifting, changing, metamorphosis

Repercussion: temporary physical mutation

Associated mineral: opal

Communion • Translation, communication with plants/animals

Repercussion: muteness, tinnitus

Associated mineral: selenite

Hysteria • Manipulation of emotions, pain

Repercussion: physical pain, apathy

Associated mineral: carnelian

Kinetic • Movement, force

Repercussion: stiffness, lack of mobility

Associated mineral: bloodstone

Chaocracy • Manipulation of chaos/order, destruction, restoration

Repercussion: confusion

Associated mineral: obsidian

Prologue

May 17, 1818, London, England

Silas took up the brush and started smoothing Marybelle’s coat, even though the stable hands had already tended her. It was late, the sun long since set, and most of the servants had already turned in. But Silas liked being out in the stables. He’d gotten used to the smell. There was something peaceful about the animals, who stood and endured their confined spaces with little complaint. Just as he did.

The horse in the next stall over nosed the back of his head, blowing warm air over his neck. Smiling, Silas reached back and stroked the velvet between the animal’s nostrils. “I’ll get you next.” He ran the short-bristled brush over Marybelle’s flank. Inhaled the scents of horseflesh and hay. Relaxed as much as his sixteen-year-old frame would let him. A few lights still shined through the house windows; he imagined his mother was having her hair wound into curling papers right about now. He should turn in, too. His new arithmetic tutor would be arriving early tomorrow to train him for Oxford, or maybe Cambridge.

He heard the sound of another horse walking before he picked up the stuttering gait of the man leading it. His stomach tightened. He glanced to the back of Marybelle’s stall. Enough room to squat down and hide, but if he was seen, there’d be no opportunity to escape. Instead, Silas set the brush aside and carefully unlatched the stall door, hoping to sneak around back and enter the house through the servants’ door.

He’d almost made it into the shadows when his father’s voice called, “Who goes there?”

Silas cringed at the slurred words. His father was drunk. But if he kept walking, his father might think him one of the staff—

“Silas!” he barked.

Dread filled Silas’s gut as he turned. “Want me to help you with the horse?” He had a sliver of luck in his blood, inherited from his grandmother. He prayed it would cooperate with him now.

His father had a lead on the animal, but the mare seemed to be all that held him up. He had a bottle in his hand, and his cheeks slouched like he’d aged himself into jowls. He was never this drunk. Silas couldn’t tell if that was a good thing or a bad one.

Not taking his eyes from Silas, his father crooked a finger. The bolt on the nearest empty stall clicked, and the door swung open. Silas couldn’t blame his father for using magic; in his condition, it was probably easier than stabling the horse physically.