My powers are strong, deadly strong. And that’s because I inherited my father’s magic. I am the most powerful female in the kingdom. But he’s the most powerful Fae in our court.
Why am I risking this at all? Why am I leading these hunters to what could very possibly be their deaths?
Because he pushed too far. He took her life just to prove he could.
And because we’re dead either way. I’d much rather die on my own terms.
My hand wraps around Carver’s bicep. The corded muscle is taut beneath my touch. My fingers tense against his smooth skin. He halts and I point ahead. There, at the top of the stairs, is a single door. Amber light glows from the crack of space beneath it.
We stand in silence, staring at that slice of light.
I push past Carver. His white shirt is soft against my arm as I skim against his frame. On careful steps, I stalk toward the door as if it’s the enemy itself.
The cold metal of the small handle meets my palm, and I hesitate for only a second. Careful thoughts trail through my mind. My wrist turns slowly, my fingers gripping the hilt of my sword tighter.
It creaks open, and every muscle in my body is poised for defense.
But nothing is there.
An abandoned room is all that greets me. The lantern on my father’s favorite little desk burns with a golden glow. It casts light onto scattered papers. The light illuminates an open book at the center of the desktop. I walk toward it, my boots tapping quietly against the stone. My fingers skim across the worn, wooden chair that’s pushed out just slightly.
Little bottles are scattered across the desk. Dark liquid coats them. The labels on the front are written in letters that I’ve never seen before. The open book demands my attention. The words stand out against the crisp, white pages.
Severing
To sever a soul, simply listen for the insistent beating of your victim’s heart. Find the rhythm of that beat. Find the pattern. Then, within the drumming, let your magic wrap around their heart. During the hollow sound of the blood pumping is when the soul is the weakest. Strike then and strike quickly.
Death will occur instantaneously.
My breath catches, and I’m suddenly all too aware of how loud my heartbeat is in my ears. Of the pattern.A phantom breeze licks over my body.
“It is an interesting little journal. Who knew a thieving Warlock would be hiding the single most intriguing book I’ve ever laid eyes on.”
I turn toward the sound of his haunting voice. He leans casually near the window. The cool breeze blows at his graying beard. Stars shine against his aging eyes. He’s a hundred years old. And yet, he stands with pride and strength as if this world will never knock him down.
I dare a quick look at Cameron, who lingers just behind me. Her attention is held intently on the book in front of us.
How much do I really trust this Witch? Would she toss us to the wind just to get her hands on this deadly journal?
My sword is held leisurely in my palm. I hold it as if I don’t intend to ram it through my father’s dark heart for murdering my mother.
He murdered her just to prove a point. Just to prove he held all the power in my life. He always did.
Until now.
“What does the interesting little book do, Father?” I tip my chin up, listening like a devoted pupil.
A smile curls his lips.
“You always were a curious child, Violence. You are more like me than you ever realized.”
The tension in the room is so thick, I can taste it. It makes it hard to breathe. All eyes are on the king as he paces the length of the small room.
An opening spans the ceiling; the massive bell looms over us. A frayed rope hangs at the center of the room, waiting to be pulled to announce an hour long forgotten.
“Only my magic is like you.”
It’s the only thing that connects us. That’s what I’ve told myself my entire life.
