Perhaps one day, when I can stomach the possibility of losing Eve, I’ll give it to her. And tell her everything.
Because she deserves that.
A low warble above draws my eyes overhead.
The blood-red stare of a white raven peers down at me, perched upon the marble shoulder of my mother. He’s nearly as white as the stone he sits upon.
In all my existence, I’ve never seen awhiteraven.
Tilting its head, it pins a single red eye against mine.
“Come to enjoy the quiet or the view?” I ask.
The creature leaps from the statue, throwing its wings out. It glides to land upon the stone basin beside me, out of reach. With a weary eye held in my direction, it drinks from the fountain. The way it stares at me, it’s as if it’s waiting for me to say something.
So I speak.
“What do you want, bird?” I ask, arching a brow.
It gives a soft trill in answer.
A quiet laugh escapes me.
I didn’t expect it to respond.
“I’m fluent in common tongue and the language of demons,” I say with a half smile. “Raven… or bird, not so much.”
For an extended moment, it holds my stare and I can’t help but feel like itexpectssomething from me. Or perhaps I’m projecting all the guilt and shame I’ve buried yet continue to carry.
As I rise I say, “Don’t keep demons as company, raven. They’ll leave you scarred and broken.”
It’s a hard lesson I’ve learned countless times.
CHAPTER FOUR
Settling into theplush, high-backed chair in the far corner of my quarters, I stare atFated Celestialssitting upon the low table before me. Right now, my biggest concern should be finding a means to navigate the High Council and keeping Rowen on his throne.
Not sitting here, trying to find Celesta.
But I don’twantto think about Rowen, the High Council, or Vaelyn anymore. They’ve consumed my mind for a majority of the day. It’s left me sour. What Iwantis to find my mother, and ultimately, regain my innate.
Let this book show me something.
Anythingto help me understand where Celesta may have gone.
I don’t expect to find her tonight, but she can’t remain hidden for eternity. And even if I don’t find anything in these pages, perhaps I’ll bore myself to sleep.
Either result is a welcome one.
The low crackle and popping of the fire across the room provides just enough sound to not be sitting in deafening silence. As summer departs, fires at night have become necessary. Sleeping with the balcony doors open isn’t something I’ll be able to do for much longer.
For now, I leave the door open. The various scents the wind carries intrigue me. Like the temperature, they too shift. They’ve grown sharper, crisper. Promising snow.
Pitching myself forward, I reach for the cursed book, dragging my fingers over its dark cover. It resonates under my touch. The strange unweaving magic winds up my hand and along my wrist.
The last time I opened this book its pages were blank.
I’m hoping it will be different this time.
