Closing the book, I tap a nail along its spine.
I’m getting ahead of myself.
There’s no promise Cenviri or anyone in his House would be willing to perform such a ritual, not with the current climate between his House and Vaelyn. Venturing into the veil comes with additional threats for him now—the risk of being dragged to the hells by Death Bringers or Vaelyn himself.
“What is it?” Eve asks gently, ice blue peeking at me through the corner of her eye.
“I found the ritual,” I answer, unable to devise a believable lie.
She straightens herself, peeling herself away from the table as her face lights up. “Ves, that’s great,” she says, smiling. She pauses, her brows creasing. “Why do you look like thisisn’tgreat?”
“Well… it’s not the worst outcome I anticipated,” I reply with a scoffed laugh. “But it’s damn close. I knew I’d need a necromancer. But I’m not convinced Cenviri is trustworthy. He and Vaelyn have centuries of history between them.”
Eve shifts in her seat, swiveling in my direction.
“You heard him, neither he nor anyone in his House holds a contract with Vaelyn,” she says. “He refused to sign andkilledanyone who did.”
“Eve… I can’t take a necromancer’s word at face value. Especially one with close ties to Vaelyn,” I reply with a sigh. “And neither should you.”
“What’s Druka’s stance on Vaelyn?” Eve asks, pitching an elbow over the back of her chair. “Would he be the reason she fled the hells?”
“Her reasons would be many,” I answer, my mind traveling to centuries past. “Vaelyn would undoubtedly be counted among them.”
“Then it doesn’t make sense for her to escape the hells and hide in a House if the patriarch is contracted to Vaelyn,” Eve counters, her stare firm.
“It’s not enough—”
“No, I agree,” Eve interjects. “But it’s astart. It’s more than you’re going to get searching for a necromancer elsewhere.”
I rise from my seat, tucking the book with the needed rituals into the nook of my arm.
“Either way, I’m now expected to listen to what he has to say,” I sigh. “I’ll decide where I stand after.”
After I’ve asked a few questions and heard his answers.
“Before you go,” Eve whirls in her seat, returning to the open book before her on the table. “I found this.” She points to the page. “It says soul sundering can be the result of channeling too much Aether. Could that be what happened to you?”
Peering at the page, I purse my lips as I shake my head.
“I’m no Aether wielder,” I reply, my voice quiet. “And if I was, I’ve no recollection of it.”
No.
My earliest memories are of the hells—of signing my contract.
But that doesn’t mean it isn’t possible. It would explain my ability tosensemagic, the veilflowers, and how easily I can grasp at my innate here.
“Celesta was an Aether wielder,” I voice the thought, mostly to myself.
“Do you think she would know?” She shifts in her seat, her eyes meeting mine briefly.
I mull over the question for a moment, remaining silent.
“Perhaps,” I say, scanning the rest of the page. “But I doubt she’ll tell the truth about it.” I shake my head.
I’d have to find her to ask.
For all I know, Vaelyn has found her already.
