“They made her cast a curse instead. A curse on Elara’s soul. If she ever met you again. In any life. In any form. If she got pregnant with your child, she would die. In the fourth month. Always the fourth month. Before the child could be born.”
My heart stops.
“And they used me as the conduit,” Cassandra whispers. “Bound me to the curse. Made me the anchor. As long as I live, the curse remains active.”
“The witch who cast it,” I say hollowly. “Where is she?”
“Dead.” The word is final. “They killed her the moment the curse was complete. To cement it. To make it permanent.”
“And you’ve been here ever since,” I say, my hands clenching into fists.
“Centuries. I don’t even know how long anymore. Time stopped meaning anything. They feed me shifter blood to keep me alive. To keep the curse strong.”
I stare at her, horror and rage warring inside me. Centuries. This woman has been chained in darkness for hundreds of years. Kept alive to maintain a curse. Against her will.
“Who?” I snarl. “Who is keeping you here? Who feeds you?”
“They come regularly. Check on me. Feed me the blood. Make sure I can’t die. Make sure the curse holds.”
“Theodore?” I demand.
She shakes her head weakly. “No. The princess.”
The princess?
“Who?” I grip her shoulders. “Which princess? Who is she? Where is she?”
“She was worried recently. Something changed. She could feel it. The prophecy moving again, despite the curse. She’s been forcing me to see more. To tell her what’s happening.”
My pulse pounds. “What did you see?”
“Your mate. The curse won’t hold. Elara is stronger this time. And she is already carrying your child.”
“And they know,” I breathe, elation being pushed aside by horror and fear.
“She left this morning. Said she was going to finish it. That she’d made a mistake letting it get this far.”
“Who?” I shake her, desperation clawing at me. “Cassandra, who went after my mate? Give me a name!”
Her breathing is shallow now, her consciousness slipping. But she forces out one more sentence.
“She has…” Her gaze flickers, trying to focus. Her lips move slowly. “Blonde…hair…”
Then, she goes limp.
Blonde hair.
My mind reels. Theodore doesn’t have blonde hair. His hair is dark, graying. But there is one person in Theodore’s family with blonde hair.
Celeste.
Dread settles like a stone in my chest.
Celeste has blonde hair.
Chapter Nineteen
Daciana
