“If you need to kill him, you have my permission.” I grab a small, damp towel and wipe the gore from my fingers as I stride to the back doors of the throne room.
Grimelda looks up from her cauldron, her hair frizzed, eyes tired.
“Any luck on breaking the curse?” I pause as the feeling of dread spreads and deepens. “Anolius, go find Emma. Quickly.” He leaves without asking for an explanation. Good.
Sophina drops a pinch of something pungent into the bubbling pot, then frowns as it sparks brightly, then withers. “I’m going to need some more herbs from Caltinius, but I think I’ve discovered the entire spell was bound with a lavenderium root.” She twirls her fingers in the air. “Around and around so many times. If you peel a lavenderium root and dry the strips in the Daylands, they become unbreakable. This is the work of magic mixed with alchemy.”
“Can you undo it?”
“Not with this one running her mouth instead of trusting my magic,” Grimelda snipes.
Sophina shakes her head. “Science, Grim. Science is what is going to break this curse.” She glances at the glowering Grimelda. “Mixed with magic, of course,” she adds hastily. “If I can break the alchemy of the binding, Grimelda should be able to reach the magic inside the curse and dismantle it. If it truly is lavenderium, then we’re close. If it isn’t …” Her antennae darken. “In any case I’ll need lavenderium powder from the infirmary.”
“Get it done,” I order.
“Yes, my lord.” Sophina takes off at a jog as Grimelda continues to stir and mutter.
“Solano?” Everett follows me to the antechamber. “You need us?”
“No. The seeker is more important.” I point at the throne room. “Break him. I’ll find out what’s going on.”
I hurry into the hallway where Brock waits.
“What is going on?” I ask as he falls into step with me.
“My lord?”
“Trouble at the borders, threats from within, are the injured nightlings in danger of fading?”
“No.” He gives me a quizzical look as I speed my steps toward my chambers. No, notmychambers. Toward Emma.
“What is going on?” My skin crackles with flames.
“I’m sorry, my lord, I don’t follow.” His brows draw together. “The nightlings are still asleep and being treated by Lucidia and Caltinius.” His gaze drops for only a moment. “They suffered mightily at Caroldon’s hands.” When he meets my eyes again, there’s a furious calm in them.
“Maybe I should’ve taken his head.” I sigh, regret adding to my worry.
“You did what was right for the realm.” He puts his fist to his chest. “But I swear to the magic that if I cross paths with him again, I’ll send him straight to the Spires.”
“I feel the same.” I move faster, turning the sharp corners toward Emma’s chambers as the chill spreads along every bit of me.
I’m drawn there, as if she’s thrown a rope around me and pulls with steady purpose. I’ve neglected her the past few days, but she knows why. I can’t go to her covered in blood, with no answers, and no way to stop the threat from spreading within my realm.
Bursting into her rooms, I don’t find her. Anolius rushes through the secret door to my chambers and, when he sees me, shakes his head. The freeze inside me increases until I’m jogging toward the females’ salon. Perhaps she went to visit the warm pools there?
I jerk my chin at Brock. “Check the library.”
He turns on his heel and rushes away.
“Anolius, see if she went to the infirmary.”
“Sir.” He nods and hurries out of sight.
I knock on the salon door, and a servant answers, her eyes widening when she sees me. “My lord?”
“Where is my consort?”
“Not here, my lord.”
