As if that comforted him.
She suddenly frowned. “Do you think the Wraith knew the dagger contained a bloodstone? Is that why he wants it?”
“I doubt it. Bloodstones are too obscure.” He grunted. “Not to mention the Wraith doesn’t exist.” The legendary assassin was a ghost story. Whoever had contacted the Rising was only adopting the fictional assassin’s well-known moniker, of that he was sure. But none of this ultimately mattered, because the rebels wouldn’t be getting the dagger, which meant the mystery assassin also wouldn’t get it.
Amryn bit her lower lip. “Samuel said the dagger belonged to Hafsin’s royal family for generations. Considering it’s a bloodstone . . . I wonder if maybe someone in that bloodline was an empath? They would have been able to access the bloodstone’s power. That could be why the dagger was regarded as such a powerful relic.” Her brow furrowed. “I wonder how old the bloodstones are. Or where they came from in the first place. Were they just discovered, or were they made?” She touched the bloodstone hidden under her collar. “I’ve never really thought about it, but someone must have placed this bloodstone in the amulet. That means the stones could be hidden in anything.”
Carver was less concerned with the history of the bloodstones, and more worried about the effect they had on his wife. “Does the amulet feel any different to you after encountering another bloodstone?”
She slowly shook her head. “I don’t think so. I’ve gotten so used to it, I think I’d notice any change.” A hint of frustration entered her voice as she said, “I’ve alwaysknown the bloodstones were dangerous, but I’ve gotten far too comfortable with mine.”
Tension climbed in his shoulders. “How often do you actively use it?”
Her eyes lifted to his. “I don’t know.”
The soft answer sent a chill down his spine.
“It’s just instinct now,” she whispered. “Most of the time I don’t even remember reaching for its power. Ysabel warned me that she sensed a darkness in me. That terrifies me. Especially after what I felt today. The sheer power in that room . . .” Her voice trailed off and she shook her head. “I can’t imagine trying to wield both bloodstones at the same time. I think it would break me.”
His gut clenched. “You’ll never have to try. Whenever Felinus figures out how to destroy the bloodstones, we can let him know where the dagger is. It will be his problem.”
She drew back slightly. “We can’t just leave a bloodstone here when we go to Westmont.”
“Why not? That second stone isn’t our responsibility.”
A shadow crossed her face. “I’m beginning to think we might be responsible forallof them.”
Confusion rocked him. “What do you mean?”
She exhaled, her eyes searching his. Then she rose, crossing to the wardrobe. He stood as well, a wary sort of anticipation building as he watched her dig around inside.
When she turned back to him, she was holding Von’s journal.
Carver tensed. He’d never liked that book, or the fact Amryn had seemed so engrossed by it. Though, now that he thought about it, it had been a while since he’d seen her reading it.
Amryn made her way back over to him. “I think I found something in here. It frightened me, so I stopped looking in the journal entirely. But after today . . .”
He held his breath as she drew a loose page from the journal and handed it to him.
His eyes traced over the lines that tracked down the page. “It looks like a poem.”
“I think it’s more than that,” Amryn said. “I kept seeing repeated words throughout the journal. Always in a certain order.” Her grip on Von’s journal tightened. “Read it.”
Frowning, Carver turned back to the single sheet of paper. The hairs on his arms lifted as he took in the eerie words.
When he finished, he lowered the page. “What is this supposed to be?”
“I’m not sure,” she said, looking far too serious. “But it almost sounds like a prophecy.”
Carver stared at her. “You think Von had a gift that allowed him to see the future?”
Red tinged her cheeks. “I don’t know. But it’s possible.”
He shook his head, eyeing the page in his hand. “It sounds like something out of a fantastical novel. Not real life.”
“I know, but . . . There’s something else.” She pulled a second loose paper from the journal and handed it to him. Two short lines stood out.
The line must end. It is the only way.
