“You didn’t even know her name until a few hours ago,” Ventos scoffs. “Don’t let the bloodsworn go to your head. She’s a tool to get what we need and has already fulfilled her purpose.”
“The curse is not yet broken.” I surprise myself by being the one to speak up. “Until it is, I am a member of this covenant. That was the promise I made. My purpose is far from fulfilled and I’m on your side until it is…and maybe after, depending on how we all proceed.”
Ventos looks like he’s just as surprised as I am. He blusters a bit and the incoherent sounds fade into a scoff. He stomps away. “Silver, steel, alloy, it doesn’t matter. Whatever that is, it’s not the curse anchor and we should get back to looking.”
Lavenzia sighs. “Ventos is right.” She wanders away as well.
“You never finished your explanation.” Winny startles me with an expectant and eager stare. “What type of silver is that? If not pure, and not steellike?”
“I don’t know,” I admit. “I know it’s different, I can tell that much. It has blooms similar to silver variant, but they’re reddish instead of a brighter platinum.” I let the disk drop to the stone floor. It fills the room with a dull metallic sound. Quickly after, I drop one of my last remaining silver daggers. The sound it makes when it strikes the floor is a high-pitched, clear tone that rings long after I’ve picked it up. “You heard the difference, didn’t you?”
“It all sounded like metal to me.” Winny shrugs.
“They definitely sounded different,” Ruvan says thoughtfully.
“Pure silver and steel variant both have that sharp-pitched sound. There are other things that I could do to prove that this isn’t pure silver, or steel variant, but I would need the smithy.”
“I take you at your word.” The way Ruvan says so makes it sound like he’s speaking for all of them. Judging from Winny’s, and even Lavenzia’s, expressions, he might actually be speaking for the two of them. But Ventos and I will never be on good terms, that much seems clear by the fact that he doesn’t even look back my way. “So then what’s special about this new silver?”
“I’m not sure yet,” I admit. “But I can tell you the door to the workshop—the majority of it—was made from the same material as this disk. There was some pure silver plating on the handle, but the rest wasthismetal.”
“It seemed to channel your blood magic when you opened the door,” Ruvan aptly observes.
I nod. “That’s what it felt like for me as well, which gives me some theories surrounding what this metal might be.” I doubt the reddish lines are by chance…
“Then you shall have time and space to investigate these theories when we return. Anything you need shall be yours,” he decrees.
I’m startled to silence, unsure of how to respond. Lavenzia narrows her eyes slightly and returns her focus to her hunt. A grin worms its way across Winny’s lips. I don’t know what has her looking so smug.
“So I can keep it?”
“You may. Conduct whatever experiments you’d like on it—just keep Callos informed. He’s the archivist among us. If we fail in our mission, he’s the one who’s going to pass on the chronicles of our attempt to the next group to be awoken.”
“Thank you.” I pocket the disk. “Ventos is right though, you all should keep looking for the actual anchor.”
“Don’t try and win me over with your agreements, human,” Ventos grumbles while keeping his back to me.
“I am perfectly capable of not trying to win you over while still being able to admit when you’re right.”
“Admitting when someone else is right isn’t a strong suit of his,” Lavenzia hums, pretending to inspect a shelf. “So it’s hard for him to see it as something other people can do.”
For a moment Ventos looks like he’s about to turn and rise to the bait, but he remains as impenetrable as one of the castle walls and keeps leafing through the various notes. The rest of them return to it as well, hunting for the curse anchor that will set us all free.
CHAPTER20
The recordsand notes are laid out across the tables in chronological order and, based on dates in the top right corners, they’reancient. I want to lift one up to get a closer look, because I can’t believe my eyes, but I don’t. If the parchment is really three thousand years old, I’m afraid they would disintegrate in my hands if I tried and whatever information they possess would be lost forever.
“How has this parchment survived?” I murmur.
Winny surprises me with an answer. “Blood lore. It’s how most of the castle has sustained this long. Craftsmen would infuse what they made with a bit of their own magics.”
I eye the ink used on the papers with a little more suspicion. Though the forge maiden in me is wondering just what blood lore meant for the blacksmith of the castle.
“Anyone find anything?” Ruvan asks.
“It’s just notes on old blood lore ritual over here. Fascinating stuff. But not really helpful,” Lavenzia reports.
“I see no curse anchor underneath the tables.” Winny is now crawling around. And then climbing on bookcases.
