Parrille turned back fully, gesturing to me to continue. The Angelcurse had somehow been absent in her histories. An alarming development, sure, but one to worry about later.
Mila nodded, encouraging me to voice the question I’d only shared with her.
“Lucidius Blastwood.” My father’s name hung in the air between us. “I want to know about Lucidius Blastwood.”
Parrille lifted her chin, eyes drooping over me. “I see it now. He is your father, no?”
I reared back. “How do you know that?”
“When you are born with the gift of speaking to the winds—when you sacrifice your connections to your clan and family to practice—you learn a great many things.” Apparently not about Angelcurses, though. She tilted her head as if listening. “I know of the man you ask after. Have seen him with my sisters and brothers. Have heard tales of him. He was a tainted, tainted man.”
“Trust me, I know.” My fingers curled at my sides, the scar along my jaw tingling. “But I think he died with secrets. Ones that are becoming more and more imperative to our lives. Can you tell me anything about him?”
“I take it you know much already?” When I nodded, she continued, “Ask a particular question. Telling stories of one’s entire life can take years.”
I ground my jaw, choosing my words carefully. I didn’t have time to start her on a random tangent. “He was looking for something across the continent. What was it?”
Parrille closed her eyes, seeming to search the archive of her mind. After a moment, her lips popped open, and her voice became that rhythmic tone of a Storyteller again. “The former Mystique Revered was curious about the seven Primes. He spent long decades of his life roving the continent, in search of power that may have been left in their wake.”
My eyes cut to Mila.The emblems. Lucidiushadknown about them. We’d suspected, based on the locations his journals referenced and the fascination with the Angels, but a part of me had always thought—or maybe hoped—it was a coincidence.
So much for denial. The scars across my back ached with the realization.
“He was successful in finding what he sought, though he was unaware. He did not possess whatever vital source it required. And in the process, he lost pieces of himself to the attempts.”
Lucidius found the emblems but didn’t have Angelblood. I didn’t have Angelblood. Why, then, was I able to feel the emblems beat?
“Lucidius drove himself toward the edge of insanity on this desperate mission.”
I dragged my tongue over my teeth, letting what I already knew sink in. As if sensing that mounting wave of turmoil, Mila slid her hand into mine, lacing our fingers together, and I calmed.
It gave me the strength to organize my thoughts. “How did he know of this lingering power if he wasn’t meant to find it?”
“He learned of them from a female of a different clan.”Kakias. She cared enough about Lucidius to share what Bant’s original plan was when he shed his angelic Spirit into her. “But neither of the two were ever fully honest with each other. A bond of true love, warped by desperation for power.”
“I guess that means Kakias and Lucidiushadloved each other at one point,” I whispered to Mila. “Even with her soul tarnished and sacrificed to immortality, she’d loved him.”
“Or he’d loved her,” Mila said. “Unrequitedly.”
“A waste of emotion if so,” I sighed. Regardless, it still didn’t answer the most important question. “Why?” I asked, voice breaking. “Why did he want them?”
It couldn’t only have been for Kakias. The queen knew of the emblems because of Bant, but had not cared about them before she learned Ophelia could use them against her.
The Storyteller shook her head. “I cannot know that.”
“What do youmean?” I argued.
“The winds only whispered the story of what unfolded. Lucidius was clear that he sought these remnants of magic, but he never shared with anyone why. That remained buried within his soul, a secret he took into the Spirit Volcano with him.”
“Can you tell meanythingelse? A—I don’t know—a reason? What was wrong with him that made him do such horrific things?”
Ophelia was searching for the emblems, too, and she was not Lucidius. She did not have the cruel, twisted heart he bore at death.
And Lucidius wasn’t a chosen. Why look in the first place?
Parrille’s stare softened. “Sometimes, it is best to let the dead rest and forge your own path through the hottest fires of the continent, Warrior Prince.”
I fidgeted, fingers aching to touch the scars on my back.
